


American Funeral

by bluecinderella4



Category: American Pie (Movies)
Genre: American Pie Theatrical Movies, Death at a Funeral (2010), Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3208172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecinderella4/pseuds/bluecinderella4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The American Pie gang reunites to hold a funeral and everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. It's American Pie set to the 2010 movie "Death at a Funeral".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Life and Death

**Author's Note:**

> On FF, I explained this story's background. How I tried to start it, couldn't get it going, felt like it was being ignored and just deleted it. I never really thought I could get it going again anyway…
> 
> …until I rediscovered my notes. Going over them, I was impressed with what I had. So I thought, what the hell maybe I can try again; have something to look forward to I suppose.
> 
> This is based off of the 2010 remake of the 2007 movie Death at a Funeral only with American Pie characters and canon. The Death at a Funeral movies were both screenwritten by the same man and are essentially the same except 2007 is British and 2010 is American if you want to check those out. This one is more the 2010 version though.
> 
> And here is an original setup prologue to get things going.

Despite being behind closed doors, it was more than evident that the raw, primal sounds of sex could be heard throughout the Levenstein residence. Methods such as wearing headphones and turning up the television were of no use. Hell, even taking a shower just to be under running water barely muffled the sounds.

Seriously, how long was this going for?

As Jim got out of the shower, Michelle entered their bedroom. "He's still asleep," she noted.

Jim's jaw nearly dropped. "How!?"

Michelle shrugged. "Evan's always been a heavy sleeper. I guess it makes up for him being so hyperactive when he's awake."

"That kid has slept through a lot of stuff." Jim sat on the bed as a long, erotic moan echoed through the walls. "I wish I could say the same for others."

Michelle sat by him. "I know it's disgusting and sick, but your dad's finally found happiness again."

"Yeah, every other night."

"Jim."

"How has she not worn him out by this point?"

Michelle tried to be seductive as she scooted toward her husband, "Well, you know what they say: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Jim made a disgusted face. "Not like a foursome. I meant why should they get have to have all the sex?"

Jim tried to think this through. "So you're saying we should have sex while my father and stepmother do?"

"That's the idea," she began kissing his neck (much to his pleasure). "Besides," she spoke in between kisses, "how else are we supposed to make a baby?"

Jim backed away. "Whoa!" He adjusted his seating so that he faced her. "You want another baby? Wha…when did this happen?"

Michelle fidgeted a little. "I dunno I just…Evan's growing up so fast and…well, I've always wanted a big family and…" she couldn't find the words to say, "…I know we probably should have talked about this first but…" she made eye contact with him. "You're not upset or anything?"

"Honestly, I kinda saw this coming. The way you act around other people's kids, how excitedly jealous you got when Kevin told us Ellie was pregnant with twins, how you said you wanted to teach _kindergarten_ ; I mean what's up with that?" Michelle shrugged. "I mean yeah, I wanna have another kid too but-" Michelle cut him off with an intense kiss. It seemed to work for a few seconds, but Jim surprisingly pulled away. "-but we should wait until we at least get a new house."

"And how long will that take?"

"Hey, I'm trying! You were the one who convinced us to move back here and my dad was cool enough to let us stay with him and Jeanine until we could find a place of our own. I'm not saying that like it's bad but I think we need to wait until things get a little more...settled."

"For how long, Jim?"

Jim took a second to think it over. "I think we should have a serious, adult discussion about this in…at least six months minimum—half a year. That cool?"

Michelle groaned. "Ugh, I hate serious, adult discussions."

"I know, right!" They shared a laugh. "I don't like being a grownup."

"I know, but we all have to grow up, sweetheart." Jim let out a pitiful whine at that. "Aw, come here," Michelle pulled him close and cradled his head by her chest. She stroked his hair for a few moments before a thought crossed her mind. "You know: there are some perks to being a grown up too."

"Mrs. Levenstein, are you trying to seduce me?"

Michelle pushed her husband onto the bed and positioned herself over him. "Why should your dad get to have all the fun?"

Michelle and Jim got into an intense liplock amidst Noah Levenstein's excited, "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" exclamations.

Jim pushed Michelle away for a moment. "You sure you want to do this over the sound of my father getting laid? I mean, that doesn't exactly keep me in the mood."

"Oh, good point," Michelle looked around the room and noticed the music player on the nightstand. "Maybe this will do the trick," she put on a seductive song and resumed her position atop her husband.

"Oh my God!" Mr. Levenstein could be heard down the hall. "Oh my God! Oh…oh my God!"

*THUD*

"Oh my God!" that time the voice didn't belong to Jim's dad. Both Jim and Michelle backed off simultaneously. "Help! Help!"

The younger adults didn't take care to fix anything about themselves or their surrounding as they ran to the master bedroom. Opening the door, Jim and Michelle came across a frightened Jeanine sitting upright in bed holding the covers over her body, and the more frightening sight of Jim's dad lying motionless on the floor with his eyes wide open.

"DAD!" Jim rushed over to his father. "DAD!" He tried to get his father to move.

"What happened?" a panicked Michelle asked Jeanine.

"I don't know," Jeanine was trying not to go hysterical. "I think he had a heart attack. Oh god what should we do!" She began having a panic attack.

"Okay try and stay calm! Jim, does your dad have a pulse."

Jim searched for a pulse. "I…I don't know…barely."

"Okay! Okay that's…well that's not _good_ , but at least he has a chance. I'll call 9-1-1. Jim, you keep trying to revive your father until the paramedics get here."

"How!"

"CPR or mouth to mouth."

"Mouth to mouth? On my _father_?"

"Jim, this is a man's life we're talking about!"

Jim frantically looked at Jeanine. "Why can't you do it? He's your husband."

"I'm too traumatized!" Jeanine cried back amidst her heavy breathing.

Jim turned to Michelle. "How 'bout you do mouth to mouth and I call 9-1-1?"

"Jim, this is your father's life at stake!" Michelle ran out the door to retrieve her phone. Not wanting to put his lips to his father's, Jim kept pushing down on his father's chest. "We think he had a heart attack," Michelle was on the phone explaining to the dispatcher. "My husband's doing CPR right now?" She listened for a moment. "Okay, I'll tell him." She lowered the phone. "Jim, you have to do mouth to mouth." Jim pouted at her. "DO IT!"

"Okay!" Jim leaned over his father, took a deep breath, and began performing mouth to mouth. On occasion, he rose with an extreme look of disgust on his face and spat at the ground before resuming his duty. The paramedics arrived a few minutes later, put Mr. Levenstein onto a stretcher, and headed downstairs to load him in the ambulance. Finally realizing his attire of a gray t-shirt and boxer shorts, Jim reached for his father's bathrobe and quickly put it on. "I'm going to ride with them to the hospital." He raced out the door and down the stairs.

"Wait!" Michelle chased after Jim. "What should I do?"

Jim quickly turned and faced her. "Get dressed and you and Jeanine meet us at the hospital."

"What about Evan?"

"He's cool, he's probably still sleeping!" And with that, Jim turned around, ran into wall, ignored his minor pain, and ran to the ambulance to ride to the hospital with his father.

…

About thirty minutes or so later—following a quick shower and attempts to calm Jeanine—Michelle arrived at the hospital. Then it took another ten minutes for her to park the car, wait in line behind some drunk idiots to ask where to find Jim and his dad, and then rush through what seemed like an emergency room maze to find her dejected looking husband sitting alone on a plastic bench in a busy hallway.

She slowly approached him, but he didn't even acknowledge her. Jim had his head down and that's where it remained as she made his way over to him. "Jim?" she practically whispered his name. Jim didn't say anything. Unsure of what to do in this situation, Michelle sat on the bench beside him and began smoothing her hand over his back. "Baby?" No response. "Is everything okay?"

Jim kept his eyes to the ground as he tilted his head toward Michelle. "Coming here was pointless. Dad died in the ambulance."

Tears began to pool in Michelle's eyes. "Oh Baby," she hugged him, "I'm so sorry."

"It's funny," Jim began, "I can't remember my last words _to_ him, but I remember my last words _about_ him. About how I'm surprised Jeanine didn't wear him out."

"Baby, you didn't mean what you said."

"It's like every time something good happens to me, there's always something bad waiting to strike and it's usually during sex. I just…I never thought…" Jim didn't know what to say. "I don't know what to say or do right now."

They didn't say anything for a moment. "Is there anything you want me to do?"

"Could you tell everyone what happened? I really don't wanna have to deal with that."

"Sure, sweetie," Michelle stroked the top of his head. "You sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

"I dunno, I just want to be alone right now."

"I understand," she planted a gentle kiss atop his crown and stepped aside to make necessary phone calls.

…

"Yes, well I didn't force you to go to Mexico for your Great Abuela's one hundredth birthday, so this is your own fault," Finch was having a conversation with his lady love while sipping his mochaccino as a Woody Allen film droned in the background. "I miss you too, but…hang on Selena there's another call." Finch pressed another button on his phone. "Hello…no, this isn't a bad time. Is something wrong, Michelle?" Finch listened intently as Michelle explained what happened. "Oh no, that's awful. How's Jim?" He continued to listen. "Well, that's understandable. I'll come over and help with anything I can at a more appropriate hour. Oh, and listen, if there's anything you need me to do…Michelle, Michelle, you think so low of me. I said any _thing_ I could do not any _one_ …Yes, I promise I will comfort Stifler's mom emotionally and not sexually, I am in a satisfying relationship after all…there are some old habits that _can_ be broken, you know."

…

Chris "Oz" Ostreicher wasn't too thrilled about letting go of the woman in his arms as her phone began to ring. "Don't answer it."

"I have to answer it," she groggily told him.

"It can wait," he assured her.

"It's probably important." She freed herself from his embrace and reached for her phone.

Oz pouted as he sat upright. "Heather!"

"Chris," she mocked him before looking at her phone screen. "It's Michelle."

Oz looked at the clock on the nightstand. "Why is Michelle calling you this late?"

"Something must've happened," Heather answered her phone. "Michelle?" With a sigh, Oz laid back down on his back and stared at the ceiling. "Oh my God, what happened?" That got Oz to turn his attention to Heather. "Is Jim okay?" Oz propped himself up. "Is there anything I can do or…yeah, well thanks for letting me know. I'll come by later, keep me posted. Bye Michelle," Heather hung up and set her phone aside.

"What's up?"

"Michelle was trying to get a hold of you, but she doesn't have your number."

"Why, is something wrong?"

"Jim's dad died."

"Mr. Levenstein died? What…how?"

"She's not entirely sure, but she thinks he had a heart attack."

"Oh my God. How's Jim taking it?"

"All things considered he seems to be taking it okay. He hasn't broke down and cried or anything. I guess it probably hasn't sunk in yet."

"Poor Jim."

"I told her we'd be more than willing to help in anyway necessary."

"Does this mean helping with funeral expenses? I shouldn't be spending any more of my savings since my latest purchase," his eyes directed to the engagement ring on Heather's nightstand. "Expensive, but totally worth it."

Heather smiled at him. "I guess I should consider that last part a compliment. It's nice to know I'm worth it."

"You are so much more than worth it."

"Thank you," she kissed him.

Mid kiss, Oz could feel Heather tense up, so he pulled away first. "Heather, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just…I just think with this news maybe we should hold off on telling people about the engagement."

"Are you sure? This might be some sort of bright spot for everyone to look forward to."

"I think it's only fair that we celebrate Jim's dad right now and not us. We can tell them soon."

Oz nodded. "Yeah, you're right." He propped himself up against his pillows. "I just want them to be the first to know."

Heather raised her eyebrow at him. "First to know? Don't you mean second to know?"

"First, second, third, fourth, however many of our friends are there."

"Chris, my father knows about this, doesn't he?" Oz tried to avoid eye contact. "You did ask for his blessing didn't you?"

"I thought about it."

Heather groaned at him. "Chris, you're already on thin ice with my father as it is!"

"Heather, the man never liked me! You even said he threw a party when you first broke up with me! Plus ever since you left Ron for me he hates me even more."

"Okay, I admit Dad's been a little more than bitter since Mom left him for his best friend and he might have taken it out on you a little bit."

"A lot of bit," Oz grumbled.

Heather rolled her eyes at that. "Daddy's always wanted the best for me; he's just being a good father. But he has to understand that he can't always interfere with what I know is best for me." Heather began peppering Oz's face with kisses. "And you," she was saying in between is kiss, "are so much more than the best for me."

"Yeah, I know."

Heather faked being upset and playfully hit her fiancée with a pillow. "You're a jerk."

"I'm your jerk," he tenderly pulled her close for a romantic session.

"Wait," Heather broke away, "are you sure this isn't an insensitive thing to do given what just happened with Jim's dad?"

"Yeah, but… let's not think about that now. Let's think of this as celebrating our engagement, okay?"

Heather shrugged. "Okay." And with that, they resumed where they left off.

…

"Okay, thanks for your condolences Kev, goodbye," Michelle hung up the phone and went back to the bench where her husband sat. "I told everyone we both know. Finch, Heather, and Oz are coming by later to help. Vicky has some work scheduling conflicts so she can't come, but she sends her love," Jim made a disgruntled noise at that. "Oh and Kevin sends his condolences. He's not coming down while Ellie's due any day now." She sat beside Jim. "If it helps he'll try and send us fifty bucks through the mail."

"Yeah, fifty bucks, that's great," Jim answered back with sarcasm in his tone.

"At least he's trying to help."

"Well that fifty bucks isn't going to bring my father back, is it?." With tears welling in her eyes, all Michelle could do was latch herself onto her husband and sob. Jim let out a deep breath and took her hand in his. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to snap like that."

"It's okay Baby; you have every reason to right now."

"I guess this means I have to be the responsible adult now."

"I have faith in you."

"Thanks, Babe."

"And as the responsible adult, you're going to have to tell Jeanine what happened."

"I figured."

"And Stifler."

Jim looked at her. "I have to be the one to invite Steve Stifler to a _funeral_?"

"He was also close to your father."

"But it's Stifler!"

"Jim!"

Jim let out an annoyed grunt before giving in. "Fine; but you have to pay for any damages."

"Don't I always?" They shared a quick laugh before sharing a quick kiss.

"Come on," Jim rose to his feet as Michelle followed suit, "I guess we better get home and plan a funeral."


	2. Mixed Emotions

Despite their circumstances, Jim was more than happy to have Finch, Oz, and Heather around. They truly were helpful when it came to organizing the funeral.

Another helpful set of acquaintances? The MILF guys. Following their high school reunion, the MILF guys rekindled their friendship and decided to open a funeral business. It seemed strange to Jim until MILF guy number one (Justin) explained that he had a degree as a mortician and MILF guy number two (John) had an unhealthy obsession with death (among other things) and wanted to open his own business.

Thus the _Maestros_ _In Life's Funerals_ Funeral Home was gracious enough to lend their assistance for Mr. Levenstein's funeral needs.

Jim decided to hold the funeral at the same house Noah had lived in practically all of his (and all of Jim's) life. It wasn't as it was going to be a big funeral anyway (it was mid-October, everyone was going on with their normal lives and schedules) so the house was big enough to accommodate the guests.

While it was a given Stifler would be invited, Jeanine requested that her other son Matt be in attendance for supportive reasons. Matt was living a few cities away attending college, but Matt's car had conveniently broken down and he couldn't come. Naturally, Jeanine suggested one of Jim's friends come pick him up for the funeral—which, of course, Matt said he'd be cool with as long as one of them "wasn't a douchebag".

Then there was the issue of Jim's Uncle Mort. Mort, who was currently living in a retirement home, had been informed of his younger brother's passing, and demanded that someone "better get off their lazy ass and come get me out of this shithole for one goddamn day". However, due to a recent "incident" when Jeanine accompanied Jim and his dad on a visit, they agreed it would be best if they kept Heather away from Mort's "pervy hands". So Finch was assigned the task of picking up Uncle Mort while Heather and Oz retrieved Matt Stifler.

Steve Stifler, however, would arrive if it was convenient for him. Those were close to his exact words. His excuse was he prepping for a book tour for his newest book and would "try" to show up for Jim's Dad funeral. Though Stifler admitted if there was keg at the funeral, he'd be more likely to show up.

The day of the funeral, Heather and Oz left early to pick up Matt, Jim and Michelle readied for the funeral, and Finch cleaned out his car.

"Jim," Finch pulled Jim aside before Jim entered his house, "is it cool if I park my car in the garage?"

Jim shot Finch a confused look. "I thought you were using it to pick up Uncle Mort."

"After cleaning out my car, I've come to the conclusion that it's not big enough to fit to fit all of your uncle's things."

"It's only a wheelchair and an oxygen tank."

"Have you seen the size of my car?"

Jim pondered this for a second. "Yeah, you're probably right. So what, do you need to borrow my car?"

"No, I'm getting a ride with a friend."

"Oh."

"I figured I'd need some assistance with your uncle and his stuff anyway."

"That's good thinking."

"But uh…there's a problem."

"With?"

"This friend."

"Is he imaginary?"

"No, he's real. He's just…how can I put this delicately..." Finch paused to think, "I don't think his presence will be well received."

"Please don't tell me he's a clone of Stifler." Finch shot Jim an 'are you serious' look. "Okay, yeah I really don't know what I was thinking there."

"Look, this friend is a really cool guy and I owe him a lot; he saved my life after a beach incident this summer."

"Beach incident?"

"Could you just keep him away from certain people?"

"Certain people like?"

"Like Oz and Heather."

Before a confused Jim could respond, a fancy looking car pulled up alongside Jim's house. The driver got out of the car and Jim's eyes went wide. "Is that Dron?"

"Don't judge, he saved my life." Finch waved at Ron.

"Hey Paul!" Ron greeted Finch.

"He calls you by your first name?" Jim whispered.

"It's a better name than Shit Brick," Finch quietly replied back before walking toward Ron. "Hey Ron, thanks again for doing this."

Ron scoffed at this. "Hey, it's no prob. It's the least I can do for my fellow friends and acquaintances." Ron directed his attention to Jim. "Hey Jason."

"Jim," Jim corrected.

"Oh, right, _Jim_ , sorry about that." _Yeah, bull shit,_ Jim thought as he watched Ron point to his car. "Listen, we better gas up and go if we want to beat the mid-morning traffic."

"Yeah, good idea." Finch turned to Jim. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Oh-kay," Jim waved to Finch.

Ron went back to Finch and started leading him toward the car. "Say Paul, is your lady friend coming with us or what?" was the last thing Jim heard before Ron and Finch got into the car.

Jim waited until they had driven out of sight before saying, "Still an asshole," aloud. He remained outside on the front porch until a hearse with the world 'MILF' on the side drove up to the house. "Wow, that's tasteful," Jim snarked as MILF guy number two got out of the driver's seat and ushered the pallbearers (including MILF guy number one) into the house as they carried a closed casket. A silent Jim followed behind.

MILF Guy number two cleared his throat, "We here at _Maestros in Life's Funerals_ …"

"MILF," both of the MILF guys solemnly chanted to themselves.

"…wish to extends our deepest regards and our warmest sympathies to you on this sad, sad day."

"Thanks guys," Jim thanked.

"Would you like to see the body before…before everything happens and what not."

"Yeah," Jim placed himself at the front of the casket. MILF guy two nodded at MILF guy one to open the casket lid. Jim looked intently at the contents of the coffin. "John…who's this?"

"Oh Jim; I asked myself the same thing when my grandfather passed away. I asked myself 'who is this man?'. I-"

"No, who's this man in the coffin because this is not my father."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you asking me if I'm sure I know what my father looks like?"

"People make mistakes in times of grief."

"Just look at the damn body!"

John did as he was told. "Oh shit," he and Jim were staring at the corpse of an African-American man.

MILF guy one also looked into the casket. "I think we've taken the wrong body."

"Sorry Jim, we're very busy today. This type of thing almost never happens."

Jim's eyes bugged out. " _Almost never happens_?"

John turned to Justin. "Did I say that out loud?" Justin nodded.

"This isn't _Burger King_ ; you guys can't just mess up my order."

"Jim, relax, I think I know where he is."

"You _think_?" The MILF guys exchanged nervous glances. "If we don't have the right body back here in the next hour then we're going have to substitute it with yours."

"We'll get him back in time!"

"Yeah," MILF guy one agreed. "Your dad's in one of two places."

"We're pretty sure it's the second place. Alright, guys pack it up." The pallbearers closed up the coffin. "Now who's got my keys?"

"You left them in the car, bro."

An irritated Jim watched as they left the house. Once they were gone, he went upstairs to his room where Michelle was getting ready. "Well," Jim began as he closed the door behind him, "this day is off to a perfect start."

Michelle turned and faced him. "Everything okay?"

"They brought the wrong body."

"They did what?"

"They think Dad's body is in one of two places."

"Maybe we should have given better thought to choosing a funeral service."

"They were cheap and willing to help." Jim slumped onto the bed. "I don't see how this day could get any better."

"Don't you mean worse?"

"No because if I say that, then worse things will happen. It's bad enough no one can help a beyond depressed Jeanine, her deadbeat sons were of no help, and I gotta be the one to deliver the eulogy."

"Baby, you'll do fine."

"But I hate public speaking at serious events. Why do you think I blocked the C-Span channel?" Michelle sat next to him. "Plus everyone's gonna expect Stifler to have the eulogy."

"What? Why?"

"Because Stifler's the writer."

"I wouldn't exactly call him a writer per say."

"Yeah, but people have actually bought and read his perverted books." Michelle gave a noise of agreement. "Maybe I should let Stifler do the eulogy."

"Wow, I guess it's true what they say about people not thinking clearly in times in grief." Jim let out a small chuckle at that. "Baby, no one here knew your dad as well as you. You're the only one who can really honor him today. I think he deserves that."

"Yeah, he does," Jim agreed. "I guess there's no way to weasel my way out of this?"

"Nope."

"Don't say I didn't warn you it'd be terrible."

"You have seriously low expectations for yourself. Jim, you really ought to start thinking more positive. Not just with delivering the eulogy but with other things like with that meeting with the realtor next week, or getting me pregnant, or being able to successfully open a small bag of chips."

"Whoa, back up for a sec! Did I hear you right? Getting you pregnant?" Michelle fidgeted in her spot. "Michelle!"

"I know it seems like an inopportune time, but I'm ovulating today."

"Today?"

"Yeah and I think now would be a good time for you to get me pregnant."

"But…but…" Jim struggled to find the right words, "…Michelle, we said we'd talk about this later."

Michelle made a whiny noise. "Less talk, more sex!"

Jim quirked his brow at her. "Is that supposed to be an imitation of me?"

"Maybe."

"It's actually not that bad."

"You think so?"

"Can you do one of Finch?"

"You can't change the subject that easily, Jim."

"Not with you, no."

"I'll just state my case as clear as I can: Jim, I want another baby and I think today would be the best day to go about making one despite your father's funeral."

"And I'll answer back with a let me think about it."

"What? Jim!"

"It's my father's funeral. I can't just sneak off to knock up my wife. Think about it: if we start going at it , it'd be pretty obvious given the noises we make. Plus, I wouldn't know when to stop."

"That is a problem with you."

"Ignoring that last remark; I'll think about your offer and we'll talk about it later."

"Okay, but not too much later." Michelle patted his hand and resumed getting ready. "We really only need to do it at least once, for at least a half hour."

"So I guess this means I should thank you for giving me something to look forward to later."

…

"If you've seen one funeral, you've seen them all," Finch was carrying on a conversation as Ron drove down the highway. "I mean they're all about death."

"I don't think funerals are designed for anybody to like," Ron noted.

"Funerals should be a way to celebrate someone's life. I think perhaps it started out like that, but got too depressing somewhere along the way. In fact: when I die, I want no grief. Just a celebration of my life. Do whatever you want with my body, but just have my friends and loved ones party in my honor."

"I'd prefer my funeral to be the saddest day ever. Not just for people who knew me, but for everybody. Stock markets crashing, businesses shutting down, women crying in the streets, you know a lot of rain would be a nice touch; maybe an eclipse."

"Hmm," Finch began scratching his wrist, "how morbidly beautiful."

"Okay, Paul, what's up; that's like the tenth time I've seen you scratch there."

"It's nothing, I just-"

"I'm a doctor, let me look at it," Finch showed Ron his wrist. "Fuck; that's not normal."

"Oh, that's very reassuring."

"Is that even a rash or what? It's very splotchy."

"Splotchy? Is that even a word?" Finch's face paled. "Oh God, this is a sign. I'm dying!"

"You're not dying."

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm a doctor."

"You don't even know what the hell this is?"

"Whatever's going on with you isn't my area of medical expertise. I'm a cardiologist, remember? I suggest you see a dermatologist or a general medicine practitioner. Maybe my good buddy Doctor Roger can check it out."

"Can you get me an appointment?"

"I could do that. Or there's another option."

"Another option?"

"Why bother paying to see Doc Rog?"

"You call him Doc Rog?"

"He's comin' to the funeral."

"What, really?"

"He said he'd be happy to. Him and Mr. Levenstein go back a ways and besides, Doctor Rog is Mr. Levenstein's brother's doctor. And just between us: Doc Rog has an obvious thing for the recently widowed Mrs. Levenstein." Finch flinched at the mention of Stifler's mom. "I'm on Roger's good side, I'll work my charm, get you a good deal."

"Thank you Ron that's very noble of you."

"Yeah, well, what can I say; I'm a nice guy."

…

Following a rest stop visit, a furious looking Heather stormed back to the car, practically tore open the passenger door, and slammed it shut. "Unbelievable bastard!"

Oz did a double take before he started the car. "What did I do?"

"Not you; Ron."

"Ron?"

"That son of a bitch invited my dad to the funeral and, of course, Dad said he'd come."

"So you're dad's gonna be at the funeral? That's…" Oz drove onto the traffic filled freeway, "…that's a comforting thought."

"You're going to have to tell him about the engagement and you're going to tell him in front of Ron—which won't be so hard to do; the two are so close, it's revolting."

"What?! No! Why?"

"We have got to make both of them understand that I love you, and I'm going to marry you. Maybe if we told them off in front of other people they might get a fucking clue."

"So why do I have to be the one to tell them?"

"Be the man, tell them! They don't seem to listen to me and more often than not attribute anything they don't want to hear me say to my period. That is not a legitimate excuse to disregard a woman with things to say!"

Heather didn't say anything for a couple of seconds. Then suddenly, she angrily stomped her foot on the carport floor and muffled an angry scream, startling Oz. "Jesus, Heather!"

Heather took a few deep breaths to calm herself. "Sorry," she apologized, "I don't know where that came from."

Oz kept his focus on the road as the traffic began to pick up. "Are you okay today, Babe?"

"Yeah, fine; I mean maybe if we stopped at a drug store for some snacks after we pick up Matt, I'd be better." Heather looked at him. "I should be worrying about you."

"Why?"

"You seem a little tense."

"Do I?"

"Yeah, it's getting your face all red and sweaty, and your body's getting a little stiff. When we make that trip to the drug store, I'm going to get you some Valium or something."

"I guess it's this thing with Ron and your dad that's got me like this. I mean I was already feeling pretty bad with the funeral but-" Oz stopped himself when he noticed the car in front of him had suddenly stopped. "-Jeez dude," this was directed to the car in front of him (though that driver couldn't hear him), "give a guy a warning next time."

It was Heather who took action by stretching across Oz and slamming her hand on the car horn. "ASSHOLE!" A stunned Oz stared at her. "What?"

He instantly directed his attention back to the road. "Nothing."


	3. Picking Up Where We Left Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I noticed that I started the first two chapters with the word 'despite'. That was purely accidental.
> 
> This time, however, it's intentional.

Despite what happened earlier, Jim seemed calmer than he was before when the MILF duo returned with another casket. He waited in the living room as the pallbearers placed an identical coffin at the end of the room.

John opened the lid. "This is your dad, right?"

Jim looked into the casket and saw his father's body. "Yeah," he solemnly stated. "Yeah, that's my dad."

"I think now you'll find everything's in order."

"Don't expect me to tip you guys," Jim told John. "Now before you go I want you to make sure you've got everything. Because once we bury my dad we're not going to dig him back up because you left your phone in the casket and you can't get on Twitter."

"Thank you for your concern, but I left everything with Justin."

"Where is Justin?"

John looked around at the empty room. "Huh?" He shrugged. "So Jim, how's your stepmom holding up?"

"Oh my God, really?"

"Her well-being is of important interest to us."

"Yeah, we're done here, you can leave."

"I figured as much. And if you, your wife, or Stifler's Mom need anything-"

"Goodbye, John!" And with that, John left. Once it was clear, Jim sat at a chair near the casket and buried his head in his hands in utter annoyance.

Michelle came back into the room carrying an assortment of flowers. "Heads up, she's in a mood," she quickly warned before Jeanine came into the living room. "You want me to put the flowers here, Jeanine?"

"Sure, but what does it matter?" she replied back. "Flowers die, people die, everything is death."

"Why yes, I do think this is a nice spot," Michelle tried to remain upbeat as she set the flowers down.

Jim got up and tried to give Jeanine a hug, but she kept distant. "So uh, Jeanine," Jim began, "that's uh…the dress is really…" he tried not to call attention to her breasts, "black is a good color on you. Maybe you should wear it more often,"

"Bad idea," Michelle whispered through clenched teeth.

Jeanine sighed. "I know you're both trying to help and I appreciate it really, but the point is really moot." She looked down at the casket. "This is the first time I've had a husband die on me, you know."

"I know," Jim answered back.

"It really sucks because I actually cared for the guy and now he's dead."

"I know."

"I could really use some support right now," as Jim and Michelle tried to move closer, Jeanine asked, "Where are my sons?"

That got Jim and Michelle to stop in their tracks. "Well, Oz and Heather are picking up Matt, and Stif—I mean, _Steven_ hasn't even bother to tell us when or even if he's coming."

"That's just like that fucker to do that. Oh well, he is my son and I guess I do love him. I just don't expect much from him. It seems like everyone I care about abandons me."

Michelle put one hand over heart and the other on Noah's coffin. "Jeanine, are you sure there isn't anything I can do?"

"You can get your hand off my husband's casket before you leave smudge marks." That got Michelle to quickly pull her hand away from the casket. "Just let me know when people start showing up so I can put on a bra."

…

"Does this guy even know who you are?" Ron asked Finch as they drove (agonizingly slow) behind a bunch of old ladies on Rascal scooters.

Finch nodded. "Yeah, I've met the guy at your basic celebratory events for Jim; birthdays, graduation, the time we got banned from the pool."

"What?"

"Jim lost his swim trunks in the pool so Mort took off his pants and got in the pool because he thought two naked people in a pool wasn't as embarrassing."

"Are you shitting me?"

"That's among many reasons why they call this man a pervert." Finch spotted the man out the car window. "There he is over there," he pointed to the home's main entrance where Uncle Mort was waiting.

"What that guy?" Ron looked at the dejected looking man in the wheelchair. "He seems harmless."

"Yeah, _seems_ harmless." Once the car stopped at the entrance, Finch got out of the car with Ron following behind. "Hey Uncle Mort, remember me?" Mort looked up at him. "I'm Jim's friend Finch. I'm going to take you to the funeral."

A frown crossed Mort's face. "Where the fuck have you been you fat bastard? If you took any longer I'd be the one in the box today."

"Nice to see you too."

…

"Oh you cocksucker!" a pants-less Matt Stifler was on his couch playing a violent video game with a friend. With both hands on the control, Matt had to crane his neck to hold his cell phone to his ear. "How would you like a missile up your ass?" Matt laughed as he pressed some more buttons. "What?" he continued playing the game. "Yeah, I got 'em right here." More gunfire from the game. "What kind of question is that? Of course they fucking work? The guy's a Pharm Tech after all. How do you think he got the legit looking prescription bottle to stash them in?" Another pause as Matt resumed playing. "Yeah I tried them; they will blow your mind. My buddy Ernie filmed me on this shit and I watched what happened and it was pretty fucking funny. Too bad I don't remember any of it though. YES!" Matt threw his control down in victory. "No, you can't pick it up today; I gotta go out of town for a funeral." A pause. "Yeah, I'm takin' it with me; I'm not risking someone breaking into my apartment and stealing this shit. Have you heard about all those robberies on campus? It's an epidemic or something." There was a buzz from outside the apartment. "Hey, gotta go, my ride's here. I'll call you when I get back." He hung up his phone and went to answer the door. "What up, people?"

The two on the other end of the door weren't exactly pleased to come across this sight. Not knowing what to do, Oz gave an awkward wave. "Nice to see you again, Matt."

Matt nodded at Oz. "Oz," he turned to Heather, "Oz's lady."

"Do you always answer the door half naked?" Heather questioned.

"Only when I know there's a sexy lady on the other side."

"Put your pants on, Matt."

"Ooh, I like it when a woman takes charge."

"Now!"

"Okay, okay, take a compliment." He stepped aside. "You guys can come on in if you want, but I'll only be a minute."

"Thank you," Heather entered the apartment with Oz close behind.

"Hey Oz," Matt noticed Oz tug at his shirt collar, "you okay? Do you need a Xanax or something? I get some from my Pharm Tech pal for free."

"I'll take care of Chris, you go put your pants on," Heather ordered.

"Will you spank me if I don't?" Heather glared at him. "Pills are on the table," Matt went into his room.

"Okay," Heather searched the messy table, "but where on the table? There are like six different pill bottles here." She quickly read over the labels. "Oh great, he's got some Valium. Chris, sit down over there; I'll get you some water."

Oz sat down at a chair beside the couch while Heather went into the kitchen. "I dunno, are you sure I should take some pills? I gotta drive."

Heather came back into the living room carrying a bottled water and the prescription for Valium. "Relax, I'll drive." She opened the pill bottle and handed him a Valium.

"Are you sure I should take this? I mean don't people use Valium to get high?"

"They shouldn't; Matt probably does though. I work in a hospital I know what Valium's actual purpose is; it's used to treat anxiety. It's totally safe for you to use."

"I guess I should trust my nurse," Oz quipped before swallowing the pill.

Matt came back into the living room. "This good enough?"

Heather inspected his attire. "Matt, you're wearing jeans."

"They're black, aren't they? Is the dude gonna be any less dead if I didn't wear them?"

"Fine, whatever, I don't have time to argue," Heather put the pill bottle she was holding in her purse. "I'm taking these with me for Chris. Make sure you grab everything you need and let's go." She and Oz left the apartment.

"Keys, phone," Matt searched his pockets, "pills." He quickly looked over the pill bottles on the table before grabbing one on the end and heading out the door.

…

"What up douchecocks?" leave it to Steve Stifler to make a memorable entrance.

"Lovely sentiment, Stifler," Jim noted as he rose to greet his stepbrother. "Nice to see you showed up."

"Are you kidding? And miss the opportunity to throw the most awesome after funeral party?"

"You are definitely not doing that."

"Yeah, well, we'll see." Stifler noticed Michelle. "Hey sexy step-sister-in-law," he (inappropriately greeted) unaware that Evan was standing next to her.

"Steven," Michelle deadpanned.

Stifler noticed Evan. "Oh, hey kid; forgot you're still here."

Michelle lowered herself to Evan's level. "Evan, could you go play in your room for a bit while Mommy and Daddy have what I'm sure will be an unpleasant conversation with your Uncle Stifler?"

"Okay Mommy," Evan ran upstairs to his room.

"Thanks again Steven for the appropriate use of language in front of my five year old."

"Yeah, no prob," Stifler responded back.

"So," Jim tried to instigate a new topic of conversation, "how was your flight?"

"Not too bad; except I had to buy the seat next to me to avoid sitting next to some person. Them first class ticket expenses really add up don't they?"

"I wouldn't know."

"There was also like a shit-ton of turbulence which is kinda a downside to first class."

"I can't really imagine how."

"Think about it: if the plane crashes  you're near the front when that fucker hits the ground," Stifler mimicked a crashing plane complete with his own personal sound effects.

"Oh that's real nice talk, Steven," Stifler turned around and saw his mom standing behind him.

"Mom!" Stifler gave his mother a hug. "How's my favorite widow?"

Jim gestured to his friend. "Steve Stifler; the man with the excellent choice of words for every occasion."

…

It became pretty clear letting Heather drive was a bad idea. Much to the guys' surprise, Heather had a serious bout of road rage. This was evident when a car cut her off. Heather slammed her hand on the car horn, drove up beside the guy, rolled down Oz's window and yelled, "We're on our way to a funeral asshole; have some respect!" before quickly speeding off.

 _Maybe_ _I should take another one of those pills_ , was Oz's first thought. That thought immediately left his mind, however, when Oz noticed something outside- even though there was nothing on the other side of him- and stared out the window in amazement.

When Heather got off the freeway, things calmed down and everyone was quiet for a while. That is, until Matt Stifler broke the silence. "So Heather," Matt leaned forward from his place in the backseat with a seductive grin on his face, "you still fucking this guy?" The car suddenly came to a halt and Matt fell backwards.

"Oops, sorry about that," Heather had a devious smile on her face as Matt remained in the back.

Oz was looking around in a panic. "You didn't hit that dog did you?"

Heather shot him a confused sideways glance. "What dog?"

Oz sniffed his hand. "A Dalmatian or a schnauzer; some kind of Disney looking dog. Is that why you stopped the car, so you didn't hit the dog?"

"Oh that: I just stopped the car to get keep that little jerk in the back seat. There was no dog."

"You didn't see one in the car?"

Matt leaned in toward Oz. "You sure your boy toy's okay?"

Heather ignored Matt. "Chris, Honey, what are you talking about?"

"Huh?" Oz shrugged and slumped back in his seat, "I dunno."

…

Back at the house, Jim and Stifler were standing by the casket. "Your dad was a pretty cool dude, Jimbo," in some way, that was a nice compliment coming from Stifler.

"Thanks Stifler."

"Pretty awesome drunk too." Jim made some sort of undistinguishable noise while Stifler cackled at his memories. "Man those were some good times." Stifler continued cackling for another moment. "It sucks that he died."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "And hey, I know this is a bad time but I don't know if we're gonna be alone later so I have to ask you now." Stifler and Jim faced each other. "I'm gonna need your half of the funeral costs." Stifler sucked air through his teeth. "You agreed to split it with me."

"I honestly don't remember doing that. Was I wasted when you asked me?"

"Wasted or not; you promised to split the costs and I need your half."

"Sure, sure, I'll get it to you later."

"Later _today_?"

"Fuck no; I don't have the money today."

"You don't…" Jim was dumbfounded. "What, did it go into buying an extra first class ticket for you imaginary girlfriend?"

"I meant I ain't got the cash. And with all due respect Jimbo, I think we should talk about this later."

"Since when do you give a shit about respect?"

Stifler gasped. "James, that is such inappropriate language to use at a funeral."

"You said the word 'fuck' not even a minute ago. Come on Stifler, we need to talk about this now."

"Dude, give a man some time to grieve over the loss of his beloved stepfather," Stifler started walking away. "You are being so inconsiderate today."


	4. Now Arriving

"Where the hell did all these cars come from?" Ron griped as he struggled to find a parking space.

"You have to get to events like this at a preferably early point in time," Finch noted. "But seriously there is no place to park."

"Screw it;" Ron noticed a small availability, "I'm taking this spot."

"It looks too close to the corner; you could get a ticket for parking there."

"I'll take my chances." Ron was getting ready to turn into the spot when another car pulled into the spot (all the while honking their horn to warn them of their presence). "You've gotta be kidding me!"

"I'll handle this," Finch got out of the car as the people in the other car did too. "Hey! HEY!" He got their attention. "You can't park there!"

"Don't mess with me today, Finch," Heather called back to him.

"Come on; it's the last spot closest to the house."

"Yeah, and it's for family."

"You're not family."

"No," Heather gestured to Matt, "but Matt is."

"By marriage!"

"Still counts," Heather started to head off.

"Heather!" the voice of her ex-boyfriend stopped her in her tracks.

"Shit," she muttered before she turned around to see said ex standing outside of his car. "Why are you here, Ron?"

"Emotional support, really. Not just for the Levensteins but for you as well—I figured you'd need a real shoulder to cry on."

She rolled her eyes at that. "Oh, please." As she made it onto the sidewalk, she noticed her current boyfriend standing in front of the car staring at the sky in some sort of daze. "Chris!" Oz turned around in a complete circle before turning toward Heather. "Chris, come on."

Finch and Ron neglected to notice the car that drove up in front of their car waiting to turn until the agitated driver honked their horn. They also neglected to notice Uncle Mort until Mort began banging on the car interior with his cane screaming obscenities.

"Dammit!" Finch commiserated, "I've got an _actual_ family member." Mort rolled down his window and began hitting Finch with his cane. "OW!" He rubbed his sore spot. "Let's just get out of the way."

"Yeah, you do that," Ron tossed him his keys.

"What? Why? Where are you going?"

"I've gotta talk to Heather."

"Dude!"

"I'll save you a seat inside, okay!"

"Ron!"

Mort struck Finch with his cane again. "Come on Fat Boy; we're gonna be late!" Another hit.

"Keep it up old man and I guarantee you will be the one in the box next!"

…

An idiotic grin was plastered on Oz's face as he, Heather, and Matt walked down the street toward the Levenstein house. "It's very green here isn't it?" He laughed. "It's so green! It's so green that it's like…" he started moving ahead of his companions, "it's like we're inside a lime or something." Heather and Matt stopped and exchanged confused glances. When Oz noticed they were stopped, he stopped too. "Am I right or am I left?" He stretched out his arms and began spinning.

"Chris?" Heather and Matt ducked as Oz spun in their direction. "Chris," Heather stopped him and held him still, "are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, why?"

"It's just all this stuff about dogs and things being green; I mean what's up with that? What's going on with you?"

"Hmmmmmmmmm," Oz swung her arms every which way he could, "what are you talking about?" He let go, and began spinning around until something caught his eye. "Whoa, no way a free concert!" He hurried over to a bunch of garden statues (which rested on someone else's lawn) that were holding instruments in their hands. "Hey, what's crack-a-lackin' homies?"

Matt tapped on Heather's shoulder. "So what's up with the wacko of Oz over there?"

"I don't know," Heather replied as she and Matt watched Oz "jam" with the band. "It's gotta be the Valium."

"Valium?"

"Yeah, I gave him one to calm him down."

"Valium? I don't have any…" a sudden realization dawned on Matt, "Oh!"

"He's probably not used to it; I mean this has got to be some sort of reaction."

"Yeah, right, from the Valium." Matt tried to be inconspicuous as he slowly left the scene.

…

Jim and Stifler were at the front of the house greeting the guests. "Jim," Stifler whispered after another middle age woman passed them, "who the fuck are these people?"

"Friends and family of my dad," Jim quickly answered back as he greeted another mourner. "I wouldn't expect you to remember all of these people you met at our parent's wedding."

"No shit?" Stifler looked around the room and took notice of a particular person. "What about that guy? I didn't see him at the wedding and I think I'd remember seeing a guy like that at the wedding." Jim took notice of a dwarf in a black leather jacket near his father's coffin. "What side of your family is he on?"

"Neither side. That guy must be one of dad's work friends or something."

"Sure, whatever," Stifler whistled as he looked around the room. "You did a good job putting together this funeral, Jimbo."

"Is this your way of saying I have to pay for this whole funeral?"

"For now, for now; I mean just until my next book advance."

"What am I a damn credit union? God damn!" Jim stomped his foot. "Jesus Christ, Stifler!"

Stifler gasped. "James, watch your language!"

"What the fuck are-" the clearing of a throat behind Jim made Jim turn and face the Holy Man behind him. "Hello, Reverend."

"James," the extremely serious man acknowledged Jim before glancing at Stifler and clearing his throat.

"Oh, sorry, Reverend, this is my stepbrother, Steve Stifler."

Stifler and the reverend shook hands. "I assume you're the writer in the family that I've heard about."

"Yes, sir, I am," Stifler was trying to act like a gentleman.

"I was hoping to meet you."

"Oh, are you a fan of my work?"

"Your work is tasteless and crude and sickens me."

"Ah." Jim was secretly enjoying this.

"However, my daughter is a fan of your teen romance novels and she would quote unquote 'love me forever' if you would autograph it for her." The Reverend removed a book and a pen from his inside suit jacket pocket

"Be happy to," Stifler took the items and signed the book. "So, your daughter's a fan, huh? How old is she? Eighteen? Nineteen?"

"Twelve."

Jim suppressed a giggle at Stifler's reaction. "Ah, well…it's nice to see the young folks are reading." Stifler awkwardly passed the book and pen back to the reverend. Once the reverend let, Jim burst into laughter. "Shut up!"

"You wrote a novel for _teenagers_ ; of course the 'young folks' are going to read it."

"Just because you write a romance novel about two teenagers doesn't make it a teen novel. The genre is called 'young adult' after all." Stifler took notice of another funeral guest. "Now that looks like someone I'd want reading my books."

Jim's eyes focused on this particular guest. "Kara? The neighbor girl I used to babysit? The girl who's eighteenth birthday we went to?"

"Oh yeah, she's legal!"

"Stifler, she's not even a full adult yet!"

"Aw, poor thing looks sad."

"No she doesn't."

"I think I'm gonna go comfort her."

"Dude!"

"I'm just being neighborly." Stifler strode over to Kara.

"Yeah, why don't you offer her a juice box while you're at it," Stifler didn't hear that last remark. Jim paced around for another moment before taking a seat and pulling out a selection of notecards from his pockets. "My father was an exceptional man," he quietly read aloud to himself. He came into this world on-"

"December 17, 1953," an unfamiliar voice interrupted. Looking up, Jim noticed the dwarf in the leather jacket standing in front of him. "Hello, Jim."

"Uh…hi," Jim was rendered speechless. "How…how's it going?"

"I'm so sorry to hear about your father. You know, he talked about you a lot." The dwarf cleared his throat. "Did he ever mention me?" Jim looked at him confused. "Oh, sorry, I'm Frank Peters," Frank and Jim shook hands.

"Frank Peters?" Jim took a second to think. "Actually, I don't think Dad's ever-"

"Jim!" Jim was interrupted by his wife. "Jim, we need to talk," without using the actual words, her face communicated what the discussion would be about.

Jim nodded to her before turning to Frank. "Listen Frank, I have to go; but thanks again for coming."

"I'm sure it'll be a great eulogy, Jim," Frank walked away.

Jim couldn't help but anxiously stare at Frank for a moment or two before Michelle reminded him of her presence. He went over to her and she escorted him upstairs where there weren't any people. "What now, Michelle."

Michelle made sure the coast was clear before continuing. "Jim, you and I need to…we need to get on top of that _situation_."

Jim groaned. "Michelle, I'm not in the mood right now. Can this wait a little while, or-"

"I'm not wearing any panties."

Jim's jaw dropped. "My dead father is downstairs in a room full of people; put on some underwear!"

"Well excuse me for trying to be sexy."

"At a funeral?"

"I need to get you in the mood if you're going to get me pregnant. Now listen: I know you asked for a little more time, but I think you can do this in five minutes." Michelle noticed Jim wasn't paying attention to her. "Jim?"

Jim was looking downstairs into the living room. "You see that guy down there?" Michelle was about to crane her head to look when Jim reprimanded her, "No, don't look!"

"But how can I-"

"Don't let him catch you staring."

"Okay, sorry," Michelle tried to look at him. "Are you talking about the dwarf in the black leather jacket?"

"It's kinda like he's stalking me. He knows who I am, but I don't know who he is. Do you recognize him?"

"No. He's gotta be a friend of your dad's."

"He asked if my dad mentioned him."

"Look, don't worry about that now."

"It's gonna drive me nuts if I don't find out who he is."

Michelle grunted. "Yeah, this baby-making deal obviously isn't happening right now."

"I'm sorry, but maybe later."

"Whatever, I'm going to listen to Jeanine bitch at me about how offering someone a drink doesn't bring back the dead."

"Put some underwear on before you touch the food!" Jim waited until she went into their bedroom before heading down the stairs. As he made his way down, he noticed Frank giving him an intense stare down. Distracted (and freaked out), Jim missed a step and fell down the last couple of steps gathering everyone's attention. He let out a nervous laugh and pointed to the stairs. "Gotta fix that step."


	5. All Present and Accounted For

"Hey Heather, I hope you don't think me rude when I ask this, but," the guest tried to find the right way to word their question, "is there something wrong with Oz?"

"It's just a bad reaction to some medicine," Heather informed. "He's never had it before and-"

"Hey, hi, excuse me," before Heather could process what was going on, she was being led away by Matt.

"Matt, what the hell?"

"I need to tell you something really important and I'm pretty sure you're gonna get pissed at me."

"I swear to God if you're trying to hit on me again-"

"It's actually more about Oz than you. However, if you would like to hit on you then I'd be more than willing to-"

"MATT!"

"Okay, okay!" Matt took a deep breath. "I know what's wrong with Oz and it's kinda, sorta my fault."

"What's that supposed to mean 'kinda, sorta your fault'?"

"What you thought was Valium was actually…not."

"Excuse me?"

"See you _thought_ you gave him Valium but you didn't."

"So what did I give him?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that."

"Matt!"

"Let's just say you gave him an hallucinogenic."

"A what?"

"You know something like Acid, or Mescaline, Special K, the good stuff," Matt forced a laugh.

Heather hit him. "Matt, this isn't funny! Why do you have that?"

"Well who comes into a dude's apartment and starts popping pills?"

"You gave me permission to give him something for his anxiety. How was I supposed to know the labels were disguised? You could go to prison for something like this!"

"Not if you don't tell."

"I'll make a deal with you: if you can fix all of this and get Chris…normal, then I will keep my mouth shut."

"Okay, I can do that."

"So now what? Should we tell him what happened?"

"No, that'll only freak him out more. Just don't let him spend too much time alone with any one person." There was some rustling to the side of them. Apparently, Oz had fallen face first into a bush. "Or a bush."

"Chris!"

"Hey!" Matt stopped Heather. "I need those pills back."

"I don't know if I can trust you with them."

"Heather, please."

"Fine," Heather reached into her purse for the non-Valium and handed it to Matt. "Just keep it somewhere where you won't lose it." Heather hurried over to Oz.

"Ain't gonna lose it in my pants," Matt whispered as he dug for his pockets. He found a pocket, widened it so that he could put the pills in there, brought the pills close to his pocket…

"Matt, a little help here!"

…and the pills missed the pocket and fell to the ground. It's not like Matt noticed though. Once he thought they were safe in his pants pockets, he rushed over to try and keep Oz from going over a fence.

…

"Jim," Doctor Roger called for Jim's attention.

"Hey Dr. Gardner," Jim greeted. "Everything okay?"

"When are we going to begin the services? I may or may not have surgery later and I'd like this funeral to be over by then."

"Soon; we're just waiting on Uncle Mort."

Dr. Gardner nodded. "Yes, fine, understandable. Also: I was having a conversation with your stepmother and she said that you're delivering the eulogy."

"Yeah, well, I am the son of the dead guy, so…it makes the most sense."

"Oh, yes that's not my concern. You are the only one qualified to give this eulogy."

"So what exactly is your concern?"

"You didn't write the eulogy yourself did you?

"Uh, yeah, I did actually."

"Jim, you may not remember, but I was there at your final for your freshman speech class."

"You were?"

"Primarily for Heather, of course, but you and your intense fear of public speaking, the stumbling of your written words, and the subsequent defecating of your pants were the most memorable parts of the evening." Jim bit his lip and nodded hoping not to say anything he'd regret. "I'm merely suggesting that you let your stepbrother write the eulogy for you. He is the writer after all."

"I'm sorry; but do you know who my stepbrother is?"

"Unfortunately; but Steve Stifler does have a gifted way with words despite his personality."

"Excuse me," a humiliated Jim excused himself.

Meanwhile, a gleeful Oz sauntered into the living room. However, his mood quickly turned to panic when he noticed the man who hated him standing near the stairs. But when Roger noticed Oz, Oz tried to play cool. "What up, playa?" he asked Roger.

"Christopher," Dr. Gardner bitterly greeted. He then watched as Oz began to walk in a circle as if he saw something and was trying to acquire it. As he began walking toward Oz, someone else entered the living room. "Heather!"

"Dad, hi!" Heather went over to hug her father. While she did that, Matt stopped Oz from trying to eat a lamp. "How are you?"

"Oh, fine." He looked at Oz. "I see you brought your friend with you."

 _The engagement_! Oz was supposed to tell Roger that he and Heather were engaged. Now it appeared that responsibility had fallen on Heather. "Dad, you know Chris is more than my friend. In fact, Chris and I are-"

"Doc Rog!" Ron began heading toward his friend.

"Doc Ron!" Roger hugged Ron. "Good to see you."

"Likewise," Ron eyed Heather. "Heather, hi. You're looking lovely."

"Yeah, well," she reached for a nearby Oz and pulled him toward her, "I'm also looking like I'm in a happy relationship."

"Looking like doesn't exactly imply that you're actually in a happy relationship."

"Well," Heather sidled closer to Oz, "I am. Right, Chris?" Oz was sniffing her all the while letting out some sort of moan. Heather faked a laugh. "We're so happy in love he can't control it. That's enough, Baby, save some more for later," she pushed him off of her and he wobbled where he stood.

"Mom!" thank God for a distraction. Matt went over to his mom and gave her a genuine hug. "Hey, Mom, how're you holding up?"

"Oh," Jeanine dabbed her eye with a tissue, "I've been better. I'm just glad you showed up."

"I only showed up for you, Mom."

Jeanine went over to Heather. "Thanks again for picking up Matt."

Heather hugged Jeanine. "I was more than happy to. And remember if there's anything you need from me or Chris today, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Oh, you're like the daughter I've never had but always wanted," Jeanine said this as Michelle was passing by. "You know, Steven is single."

"NO!" Heather said that a bit too loudly. "No, I'm with Chris," Heather grabbed a groggy Chris and pulled him forward. "You remember? Oz?"

"Oh, Oz! Nice to see you again, Oz."

Trying to go in for a hug, a dazed Oz fell forward and rested his head among Jeanine's massive breasts. "Sorry about your loss," his sentiment was muffled into her chest.

"Yes, thank you," Jeanine forced him off of her.

Oz planted a sloppy kiss on her and then led his own acapella version of ' _Amazing Grace_ '. Thankfully before he hit the high note, he got distracted and started to wander off. Heather feigned another laugh and started after him.

"Oz is a little under the weather," Matt covered for him. "We gave him some medicine and this is just a side effect. I promised Heather I'd help out with him today." He noticed Oz standing behind them with a magnifying glass to his mouth. "Let me know if you need anything from me, Mom," Matt gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and went toward Oz. "Hey Oz, bro, maybe we should get some fresh air."

"How much does it cost?" Oz inquired as Matt led him outside.

A frazzled Heather stood by the front door trying to catch her breath. She wasn't sure how much more she could take.

Her ex-boyfriend coming over was of no help either. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Go away Ron," she demanded.

"If you were truly, happily in love then why aren't you wearing that rock on your finger?"

Heather's eyes went wide? "How do-"

"I was at the same shop when he bought it- for a different reason of course. He spent a fortune on it too, from what I listened in on."

"Oz asked me to marry him a few hours before Mr. Levenstein died. We didn't want to take the focus off of Mr. Levenstein so we agreed to wait to announce our engagement."

"I'm surprised Doc Rog hasn't mentioned it."

"Dad doesn't know about it, and neither do you! Keep your mouth shut."

"For you, I'll do it." He and Heather watched as Oz tilted back and looked up at the sky with a huge smile on his face. "What is he looking at?"

"Chris!" Heather hurried over to Oz and she and Matt propped him upright. "Come on, Baby, let's go inside."

Ron stepped aside as Heather and Matt escorted Oz inside. Before he went inside, he looked up at the sky. "Seriously, what was he looking at?"

…

An exhausted Finch had gotten Uncle Mort from the car to his wheelchair and then proceeded to roll the curmudgeon for at least a mile (and up a hill) toward the house. When they were in sight of the house, Finch stopped for a moment to catch his breath. "Are you happy you cranky bastard? We're here."

"A little exercise ain't gonna kill you, fatty." Mort stamped his cane on the ground. "Keep going!"

Finch rolled his eyes and grumbled as he turned to the front of the house. "Oh crap, stairs."

"Quit your bitching and get me up the stairs, woman!"

…

"So Kara," Stifler was sitting backwards in the chair in front of her, "have you ever been to a funeral before?"

Kara shrugged. "I don't know if I have; I might have when I was little."

"That must have seemed so, so long ago."

"I thought I'd come and pay my respects. I was their neighbor and I did get to know Jim and Mr. Levenstein. I think it's the least I could do for them by coming here."

"Yeah, that's a sweet thought. And who knows: maybe you might meet the man of your dreams at the funeral." Kara shot him a weird look. "Stranger circumstances have brought together true love before." When Kara smiled, Stifler thought he made progress.

When Kara waved and said, "Hi, Jim," that thought quickly escaped Stifler's mind.

"Hello Kara," Jim politely greeted. "It's very nice to see you; thank you for coming. Oh and Stifler, your seat is up front next to your mother." Stifler glared at him. "She's waiting."

Stifler looked at Kara. "To be continued?" Kara nodded. "Oh and Jim, that creepy short dude's looking for you. I think he wants to uh," Stifler made some inappropriate gestures.

"It's not a gay thing, Stifler; get your mind out of the gutter."

"Sure it isn't," Stifler winked at him and took his place up front beside his mother.

Before Jim could take another step, he heard a few choice words being shouted outside (with a few occasional thuds as the wheelchair banged against the steps). Fortunately (Jim noticed), Michelle was able to cover their four year old son's ears. "Uncle Mort's here." Jim went in search of the reverend. "My uncle just arrived; we can start soon." The reverend acknowledged Jim and headed into the living room.

Jim also passed by Oz and Heather. "I want our wedding to be like this," Oz was directing this to Jim.

Jim glanced over at Heather. "Heather is he okay?"

"It's a reaction to some medicine he took," Heather was prepared to use that excuse all day. "I'm pretty sure your uncle's here; we're gonna go sit down." She led Oz to the living room.

Finch struggled up the steps and into the house where Jim was now waiting. "Finch man," Jim started, "what happened? What took you so long?"

"Hi Jim," Finch tilted his head slight. "Hi, Jim."

"Finch, are you okay?"

"Yeah just…" Finch was taking deep breaths as he spoke, "just seeing double or…hi, Jim."

"Why don't you go inside and sit down."

"Sit…down? Sit," Finch slid to the floor.

"Crap," Jim tried to get the attention of the nearest non-wheelchair bound person, "Hey Ron!" That person happened to be Ron. "Can I get a little help here?"

Ron headed over to him. "Sure Jason."

"Jim."

"Right." Ron nudged Jim out of the way and took the handles of Mort's wheelchair.

"Actually, I was hoping you could help with Finch."

"I think he's fine there; let him catch his breath."

"But we need to get him in the living room so-"

"Ladies and gentleman," the reverend spoke, "if you could all take your seats and we shall begin the service."

Facing the choice between helping Finch or getting Uncle Mort inside, Jim blew off Finch and helped get his uncle into the living room. Once in, Ron hurried to the open seat behind Heather (much to her annoyance) and Jim took his seat up front beside his wife.

The reverend continued, "We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a fine man who-"

He paused when he saw Finch stumble in. "Sorry about that Reverends," Finch took the closest open seat he could find. "Sorry folks," Finch apologized. He then flailed his arms in a sort of gesture for the reverend to continue. "Don't mind me, do your thing."

Jim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This is the stuff he had to put up and the day wasn't even over yet.


	6. Out in the Open

Unfortunately for Heather, the last available seat closest to the end for Finch was next to Ron and behind her. The reverend had barely begun his speech when she felt an obsessive poking on her back. "What?" she turned around and hissed.

"I may not be technically family, but neither are you," Finch harshly whispered.

"The point, Finch?"

"One: I've been a friend of this family longer than you, and you only became a friend of this family through your boyfriend. Second: After what I went through today with that pervy old bastard—who is an actual blood relative of Mr. Levenstein- I think I deserve a little respect." Finch was accentuating points by poking Heather.

"Poke me one more time little man, and I will kick your ass," Finch, having never seen this side of Heather, backed away in his seat. Ron, however, was clearly turned on by this. "You think you're the only one having a rough day, Finch? Quit making this about you! Now shut up and leave me alone." She faced forward.

"I think it's only fair that I get my point across."

"Finch," Jim was leaning back and loudly whispering, "what's going on?"

"She took my parking spot."

"Dude, my father's dead have a little respect," When Jim faced front, Stifler looked back at Finch, smiled his wide smile, and flipped Finch off with both middle fingers.

When the reverend ended his brief, serious sermon, Oz wasn't doing his best at suppressing a hysterical laughing fit. The reverend, however, attempted to ignore Oz and continue on. "And now we'll hear a word from Noah's son, James."

It was the moment of truth for Jim. Michelle gave him a quick back rub and a kiss on the cheek as a nervous Jim rose to his feet, took his place center in front of the casket, pulled out his notecards and cleared his throat. "Uh, good afternoon everyone…er, I should say afternoon—it couldn't possibly be that good." Another laughing fit from Oz. "Thank you, Oz; even I didn't think it was that funny." Jim looked down at his notecards. "My father was an exceptional man. He came into this world on December 17, 1953- an exceptional time—where Dwight "Ike" Eisenhower was president, and the top song the week he was born was ' _Rags to Riches'_ by Tony Bennett . You all know that song," Jim sang an excerpt from that song (as best he could acapella) much to the awkward silence of the crowd.

To be fair, an enthusiastic Oz did give him a round of applause. "Encore!"

"Ha, ha, no," Jim eyed the audience before he tore his eyes back onto the notecards. "So that was the song. And even though I considered Dad to be the man of the year every year, Time Magazine decided the man that year was some German man who's name I honestly don't know how to pronounce," another laugh from Oz. "I see I have one fan out there."

An excited Oz was looking around the room quietly humming as Jim continued giving his eulogy. As he looked over the casket, his eyes went wide with fear. "Hey," Oz tried to get Heather's attention. "Hey."

He managed to get her attention. "What?"

"Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"The coffin just moved."

"No, it didn't, Baby it's just your imagination."

Finch shushed her. "Have a little respect Heather." This time Heather was the one who flipped him off (only with one finger, unlike Stifler)

"He's alive in there!" Oz was adamant on that. "We gotta get him out!"

"No!" Heather tried to stop Oz from standing.

"The coffin's moving, we have to stop!"

Jim feigned a small laugh. "Guess I lost my one fan."

"We have to get him out!"

"You can sit down now, Oz."

"No, someone's alive in there!" Oz started toward the coffin. "What the hell's wrong with you people? I gotta save him!"

Heather tried to hold him back, but it was no use. At some point both Stifler Brothers even got up to help keep Oz back. It was hard to describe everything that happened in the ensuing scuffle, but what happened next was clear. The coffin had gotten knocked to the ground, the lid had opened, and Noah Levenstein's body came rolling out onto the living room carpet. This made Jeanine scream and run in fear, Roger and Michelle chase after Jeanine, Evan chase after Michelle, Oz try to revive the body but be dragged out by Jim and Finch (with Heather close behind), and the Stifler brothers putting the body back in the coffin.

Uncle Mort, could clearly care less about everything. "Just bury the son of the bitch and get it over with!"

…

Jim made sure they were alone outside before he yelling, "Oz, what the fuck?!"

Heather got in the middle between them. "Jim, I am so sorry."

" _You're_ sorry!? Is that supposed to make everything okay?"

"There was someone in the coffin!" Oz protested.

"Yeah, my dead father!"

"Jim, calm down," Heather restrained Jim from going after Oz. "There is something wrong with him today and Matt and I are trying to keep him from doing anything stupid or dangerous."

"Oh you mean like the stupid thing he just did in there? Heather, what the hell is going on with Oz?"

"I'll explain everything later; could you please just go back inside?"

"Yeah, fine; Oz can make this up to me at my father's NEXT FUNERAL," Jim turned to go back inside.

"Jim!" Michelle ran over to her husband. "Jim-"

"NO I WILL NOT HAVE SEX WITH YOU!"

Somewhat taken aback, Michelle did manage to remain cool. "That's not what I wanted to ask. I just wanted to know if everything's okay?"

"No, but apparently Heather's sorry," Jim hurried back inside with Finch and Michelle soon following.

The three of them passed Heather's angry father. Roger stormed outside and was pointing at Oz. "You're dead!"

"Dad!" Once again, Heather was in between Oz and someone trying to kill Oz. "Dad, leave it alone, please."

"Leave it alone?! Heather, I can't believe you brought this maniac!"

"He's just having a reaction to some Valium."

"Quit covering for him, he's obviously high on something else. People on Valium don't knock over coffins!"

"It's not his fault! Please, Dad just go inside."

"I never want you to see him again."

"Dad!"

Roger returned his focus to Oz, "This isn't over Ostreicher! You're going to pay for this!"

…

Stifler clapped his hands together before addressing the guests. "So we've hit a bit of a snag here; but it's all good, we're getting everything back in order. Until then ya'll can mingle, have some refreshments, and we'll get this going when everything's cool."

"Burn his body and get it over with!" Mort suggested.

"Cool, thanks for the suggestion."

"By the way, I read your last book."

Stifler seemed pleased with this. "That's awesome, thanks dude."

"I'm not giving you a compliment, you arrogant fuck. The book was shit and I wouldn't wipe my ass with it." Stifler noticed Kara giggle at that. "Now come on Blondie," Mort wheeled over to Stifler, "get me some food." He whacked him with his cane.

"OW! Fuck!"

All the while, Finch stood by and watched this in amused delight.

…

Heather and Oz were sitting outside away from the guests. "I'm not crazy!" Oz was using hand gestures as he described what he saw. "I saw the coffin move!" He put his hand over his face. "Am I losing my mind?"

"You're not losing your mind," Heather assured.

Oz pulled his hand away, took a second to look at it, raised the other hand, and stared at them in a wide-eyed panic. "Why are my hands so big?!"

"Focus!" Heather got Oz to stop for a minute. "I have to tell you something important."

"But my hands-"

"Your hands are normal-sized, trust me. Chris, Baby, you have to listen to me."

"Of course I'm listening Hannah."

"Heather."

"Gesundheit."

Heather blew that last part off. "Okay, do you remember that Valium I gave you earlier?"

Oz shook his head no. "Yes."

"Well it wasn't completely Valium." Oz said nothing. "Chris? Did you hear me?"

"WHAT?" He yelled. "AM I GOING BLIND?"

…

"Dr. Gardner," Finch ran over to Heather's father. "I was wondering if you could look something over for me? See, I've got this rash on my skin-"

"Might I suggest seeing a dermatologist," Roger tried to walk away.

"I would, would I have the insurance or a trusty dermatologist." He showed him his wrist. "This isn't deadly is it?"

"It's probably just a pigment mutation?"

"Mutation? Like…a mutant? Am I going to turn into some half-human, half-Hulk creature?"

"It's either a pigment mutation or an allergic reaction. Whatever you have I'm sure it's not deadly. Now if you'll excuse me," Dr. Gardner walked away.

Finch began to follow. "How sure?"

…

"You did this!" Matt was caught off guard by Oz attempting to strangle him.

"Chris, stop!" Heather managed to get him off of Matt.

"He drugged me!"

Matt looked at Heather. "You told him? I told you not to tell him!"

"How long does it last?"

"Not long…just eight hours or so."

"EIGHT HOURS!?" Oz stumbled backwards.

"Baby?" Heather took a step toward him.

"I'm gonna be sick," Oz ran off toward the bathroom.

Heather and Matt were facing each other by this point. "This is all your fault!"

"You gave it to him!" Matt pointed out. "Then you told him when I asked you not to."

"You have illegal drugs in your possession! You're the one who'd be facing criminal charges if this ever got out."

"Okay, that's a fair point."

"And unless you fix this then I'll make sure the word gets out. Now come on," she and Matt began running after Oz. Oz ran into the house, up the stairs, into a bedroom, "No, not in there!" out of the bedroom, into the bathroom, and slammed the door on Heather. "Chris!" She opened the door.

"I have a weapon," Oz was holding a blowdryer. "Get back or I'll blow your head off. Put your hands up!"

"Are you kidding me?"

"HANDS UP!" Heather did as he wanted. Oz took the opportunity to slam the door again, lock it, and run to the toilet.

Heather tried to get the door open. "Chris! Come on, open the door!"

"Uh, Heather," she didn't notice Matt had caught up with her. "Remember the one thing you asked me not to do earlier with the pill bottle."

"Not now, Matt!"

"But-"

"Not, now!"

"Fine, but I'm not going to be held responsible if this happens again!" Matt left the area all the while searching for something of major importance.

"Matt," Jim noticed Matt on the hunt as Matt came down the stairs, "what are you looking for."

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that," Matt kept doing his thing.

"Grief does strange things to people," Jim turned, looked down, and notice Frank standing behind him.

"Hello, again," Jim greeted.

"There's something I need to discuss with you."

"Can it wait?"

"If there's somewhere private we can go."

"No, I guess it can't."


	7. Didn't Need to Know That

Jim led Frank into the den. "Hmm," Frank examined his surroundings, "this room doesn't surprise me. This does seem like your father's style."

"Uh, thank you, I guess," Jim sat on the sofa behind a glass coffee table. "So uh, what did you want to talk about?"

"I would like to start out by saying that despite you not knowing who I am, your father and I were once very close."

"Okay."

"We spent a great deal of time together."

"Sure."

"And I have some photos of me and your father; a few snapshots of our brief time together."

"Oh, do you want me to put them on the picture boards?"

"I don't really think that's an appropriate thing to do."

"Exactly what kind of pictures do you have?"

"I have a collection of photos from when your father came to Las Vegas last summer. Oh, here's one of your father and I in front of the theater that played _Kinky Boots_ \- that's a great show by the way, I recommend you go see it."

"So you met my father when he went to Vegas last year with his _wife_?"

"He seemed to have lost her somewhere at a casino and was waiting at a bar when I found him. He had a few more drinks, and then we had a night on the town."

"Right, okay, you met him one time and the two of you hung out while he was wasted. I don't think that qualifies you two as being close."

"No, but I think this will," Frank handed Jim another set of photos. Jim took them with reluctance, looked at them, and tried not to throw up after looking at them. "I took them as a sort of souvenir. I knew your father would be hungover in the morning and forget all about me, but I didn't want to forget about him."

Jim set the photos face down on the glass coffee table in front of them. "Does Jeanine know about this?"

"No." Jim breathed a sigh of relief. "And she won't know so long as I get what's owed to me."

Jim raised his eyebrow. "What's _owed_ to you?"

"That magical night we shared together was rather expensive and I was never reimbursed. I truly fell in love, but I knew it could never be. I got nothing out of this but a broken heart. I at least want what I paid for the night your father and I shared together. The expenses totaled to $29,975 and sixty-three cents but I figured a nice round number would be appropriate."

"Heh?"

"I want $30,000."

"What? Are you high or something? I'm not going to give you $30,000."

"Then I have no other alternative but to show these photos to your stepmother." Frank reached for the photos.

Fortunately, Jim snatched them off the table before Frank could get his hands on them. Jim put them in his suit pocket and headed for the door. "Wait here." Closing the door behind him, Jim began walking around the house in a daze.

"Oh Jim," a male guest stopped him, "I was just telling George about this time in college where your father got so drunk and he made us all go skinny dipping," the guest (and George) laughed. "Isn't that funny?"

"Yeah, hilarious," a shell-shocked Jim continued through the house.

…

Heather heard Oz scream inside the bathroom. She tapped on the door? "Chris?"

"There's a man trapped in the mirror!" he called back.

"That's you!"

"I'm trapped in a mirror?"

"Unlock the door and I'll come save you."

"Heather," a voice drew her attention from the bathroom door. Ron's appearance was the last thing she needed. "There anything I can do to help?"

"You can leave."

"Fair enough," instead of going away from her, Ron came toward her, "but first I want to know what you're doing this weekend. I got tickets to-"

"No you don't. You're just trying to find any excuse to try and get me back."

"He doesn't deserve you." Ron tapped on the bathroom door. "You don't deserve her!"

"Is that the man in the mirror?" Oz questioned back. "How did he get out there when he's right here?"

"Uh-huh. Heather, are you sure this guy's okay?"

…

"So I'm currently residing in LA for the moment," Stifler was trying to flirt with Kara. "You ever been to LA?"

"Only once," Kara answered, "with my parents. Mom won two free tickets to a _Celebrity Dance Off_ show and took me and Dad with her. Besides going to the show, all we really did was stay at our hotel."

"What? Then you haven't really been to LA. You should come and visit this summer for your birthday. You'll be turning what, twenty-one?"

"Yeah."

"You know twenty-one and eighteen are my favorite numbers. You know what; you should save up some money and come to LA. You can pay me a visit and we can hang out, see the sights, maybe get to know each other a little better."

Jim cleared his throat to get his attention. "Hey Stifler, could you take some time away from your flirting? I need to talk to you."

"Jim, we're grieving here."

Jim tilted his head toward Kara. "Kara, could you give us a few minutes here?"

"Sure Jim," Kara seemed eager to do anything her former babysitter asked.

"To be continued…again," Stifler called after her. "Jim, what the fuck?"

"Stifler, you were right."

"I like hearing those words but I'm not sure what I'm right about."

"About the dwarf being gay."

Stifler laughed. "Oh my God, he did try to have gay sex with you!"

"No, actually he was blackmailing me."

"Into gay sex?"

"He didn't want gay sex with me!"

"Oh, don't feel bad, Jim; I'm sure your wife still finds you attractive."

"Stifler, could you be serious for like five minutes?"

"Fine. So the gay dwarf wants to blackmail you?"

"Apparently he and my dad shared a drunken night together in Vegas."

Stifler sucked air through his teeth. "Your dad is a pretty awesome drunk. I bet he and that guy did a ton of shit they'll regret."

"I'm pretty sure my dad didn't remember it."

"I betcha gay dwarf guy did."

"Oh, he did," Jim took the pictures out of his pocket, "and he's got the pictures to prove it."

"Whoa!" Stifler flipped through the photos. "I know this is kinda sick and disgusting but kudos do your dad for getting into those positions." Jim quickly took the photos back. "So why are you telling me this? Shouldn't you be talking to your wife?"

"I came to you because your mom is involved."

"Take a closer look Jim: my mom's not in these photos."

"No, the guy is going to show these pictures to your mom unless he gets $30,000."

"That's a lot of money."

"Yeah, that I don't have."

"You know: you might want to reconsider my gay sex suggestion."

…

"I don't get it Paul," Ron was complaining to a distracted Finch. "I mean I'm a fucking heart surgeon. What does she see in that poser that she doesn't see in me?"

"This seems way more serious than it should be," Finch was referring to his splotchy wrist that he was currently digging at.

"I knew you'd understand."

Finch looked up at him. "Sorry what; I didn't even realize you were sitting there."

"You still scratching that thing?"

"Dr. Gardner believes it's either a pigment mutation or an allergic reaction. Hey, do you know if there a person can get an STD on their wrist?"

"I'm really not the person to ask about that."

"Yeah, you're right. I'm going to go find Dr. Gardner. Do you know where he is?"

"He's probably outside hitting on Stifler's mom."

"Who now?"

…

"I'm merely suggesting I treat you to dinner to ease any more stress," Doc Rog was putting on the charm. "I'm not trying to move in on you so soon after your husband's death. This is merely a dinner get-together as friends."

Jeanine let out an aggravated sigh. "Okay, what do you want out of this?"

"Pardon?"

"You won't a hand job? A blow job? What?"

"No, nothing like that! I just want the pleasure of your company."

"Well, isn't that fucking sweet." She paused. "My dead husband was like that. Just wanted to go on a date for the sake of dating; I mean who the hell does that?"

"Gentlemen."

"They still exist?"

"Dr. Gardner!" Finch called to him.

"Oh great, him again," Roger wasn't too pleased to see him. "Jeanine, why don't we continue this inside?"

"Because I'm already out here," she remarked back as she took out a cigarette. "If you want to avoid him, be my guest." Roger said nothing more as he hurried off. Finch had finally made his way over as Roger left. "You just missed him."

Finch turned and officially faced a blast from the past. "Stifler's mom."

"Finch." She blew a smoke ring and gestured for him to sit down. Reluctantly, he did. "Been a while since we've been alone, hasn't it?"

"Yes ma'am it has." Finch nervously cleared his throat. "So how are you holding up?"

"I've been better. Yourself?"

"Can't complain."

"So where's your little girlfriend?"

"In Mexico, visiting some family."

"Oh that's right, you actually have one this time."

"Yes, I do."

Jeanine shrugged. "I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later."

_MUST RESIST TEMPTATION_ the thought rang in Finch's mind. _MUST RESIST TEMPTATION._ "So," Finch nervously tugged his collar, "can I get you a drink?"

"How about a scotch?"

Finch immediately rose to his feet (this was all too familiar for him). "Well this has been fun, but I think I have to go to the bathroom."

"You _think_?"

"Goodbye Jeanine," a nervous Finch turned to run, but tripped over his own two feet not too long after. "That could have been avoided."

As he laid on the ground, Jeanine walked past, dropping her cigarette close by and stomping it out with her heel as Finch watched. "Be more careful next time, young man."

Finch unconsciously let out an erotic moan as he watched her walk away. "Still got it," he said aloud. Bringing himself to his feet, something in the grass caught his eye. "What the?" he picked up the pill bottle. "Who brought a Valium to a funeral?"

…

"Seriously Stifler, stop suggesting gay sex," an exasperated Jim demanded as the two of them walked around the backyard.

"Either way; you're the one who's gotta pay him."

"Me? Stifler, what the hell? You've gotta have some money stored away? Don't you have a savings, or a nest egg, or even a damn piggy bank?"

"I wish I did, Jim but I'm debt up to my ass. I am broker than a washed-up child actor. My options to get more money are to write another crappy book or appear on a reality show."

"Stifler, it's not fair that I have to pay for all of this funeral stuff and then turn around and increase my debt by paying some gay dwarf to keep his mouth shut."

"All of this is because of _your_ dad, Jim."

"And he became your dad by marriage."

"Stepdad, bro; big difference."

"Jim," Michelle ran over to them, "the reverend wants to start the funeral soon."

"I'll meet you in the den, Jimbo" Stifler headed off.

Jim took a moment to think. "Okay, tell the reverend we're gonna be another ten minutes."

"Are you sure everything's okay?" Michelle questioned.

"Let's just say we won't be able to move as soon as we hoped."

"What's that supposed to mean, exactly?"

"I wouldn't have said that if I didn't have a good reason."

"So what's the reason?"

"You're just going to have to trust me on this."

"Jim!"

"I'll tell you later."

"Jim!" too late, Jim hurried off after Stifler. Meanwhile, another Stifler brother was about to cross Michelle's path. "Matt?"

Matt looked up at her. "You Jim's wife?" Michelle nodded. "Hey, aren't you the girl Jim had sex with in my bedroom in 1999?"

"How do you-"

"I was hiding in the closet, but that's not the point."

"Um, okay, I'll try to ignore what you just told me. What are you looking for?"

"I can't tell you until I find it."

"Then how can I help if I don't know what you're looking for."

Matt paused. "Maybe you can help me." He tried to find a delicate way to word his upcoming query. Hypothetically: how would you cure a person who's accidentally taken acid?"

"Why do I get the feeling this isn't hypothetical?"

"It's for my pharm tech exam."

"Sure it is, Matt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUN FACT: The thing where Matt says he was in his closet the night Jim lost his virginity to Michelle was a deleted scene in the first American Pie. I figured that kind of explained what the hell happened to Matt the night of the party. I mean, he couldn't really go anywhere else so where was he when all this shit was happening? Why wasn't he in his bedroom?


	8. Bigger Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should warn you: in addition to being just a little bit longer than the other chapters, this chapter is also a little more disgusting. Nothing like sexual or anything; just unsanitary stuff you probably wouldn't want to read about or picture in your mind. But hey, it was in the movie.
> 
> There's probably a lot more offensive language in this chapter too. Just a head's up.

Jim and Stifler entered the den. Frank was casually lounging on the sofa expecting their entrance. "Afternoon, gentlemen," he nonchalantly greeted. "You must be Jim's stepbrother, Steve. Hello, Steve; I'm Frank."

"There's no need for formalities," Jim sat at his father's desk, "let's just get this over with."

"Fine by me."

"If _I_ ," Jim put heavy emphasis on the pronoun, "write out this check, you give us the photos, and you stay away from Stifler's mom."

"Deal."

"Good. Now who should I make this check out to?"

"Frank Peters, or cash; cash would also be appropriate. Just so long as I get what I deserve."

"What you deserve?" Jim paused for a moment. "I can't do this," he ripped up the check.

"Uh, Jim," Stifler hurried over to Jim's side, "Jim, if this is about not having the fundage, I can totes pay you back."

"Totes? No, I'm going to ignore the fact that you just used that word," Jim got back on topic. "Stifler, this strange freak shows up on my dad's funeral demanding I pay him money that I don't have and wants what _he_ deserves or he's going to drag your mother into this?"

"The dude's got pictures."

"And he can post them on Facebook for all I care!"

Frank sighed. "Fine," he rose to his feet. "Just remember Jim: this is all on you."

"Hey, hey, hold up," Stifler blocked the door. "I know talking sucks, but maybe we should probably do that."

"There is nothing to talk about. Now if you'll excuse me."

"I could, or…" without warning, Stifler attacked Frank, pinning him on the ground.

Jim was shocked by this. "Stifler, man, what the hell?!"

"Don't just stand there; get some rope."

"Oh yeah, I carry that on me all the time. Where am I gonna find some rope?"

"I dunno; my mom's bedroom."

"Wow, that is just wrong on so many levels."

"Help!" Frank tried to scream.

Stifler snapped his fingers at Jim, "Just give me your tie."

Jim pulled off his tie in a frenzy. "You can't expect to bind him with a tie! He's not that small."

"I'm gonna gag him."

"You're putting my tie in his mouth?"

"You got any other suggestions? Come on: I'll hold him down, you gag him."

Jim did as Stifler told him to. "OW! He bit me!"

"You'll get over it!" Stifler looked around the room. "Hey, get that rope from the curtain and tie his legs while I hold him down."

Jim tried to follow Stifler's instructions. "Man, this guy can kick! It's like we're in a fucking rodeo."

"He's pretty strong for a midget."

"Dwarf."

"Whatever!"

Jim and Stifler were too busy wrangling up Frank that they didn't notice Finch come in. "Hey, is everything okay in here?" He viewed the scene. "Should I come back later?"

"Shut the door, Shit Brick!"

Finch did. "Uh, who is that guy and what are you doing to him?"

"He's a midget having a seizure."

Jim gave Stifler a stunned, yet disapproving look. "Stifler-"

"Sorry, dwarf having a seizure!"

"That's not the issue here, Stifler!"

"Not now Jim, this small person is having a seizure! We're trying to help this man, but he's putting up a fight."

Finch dug in his pockets. "Here, I found some Valium; this should calm him down." He rushed over to what he thought was a medical emergency and managed to insert more than one Valium into Frank's mouth. "At least we got one in; that should calm him."

"Hey cumbuckets," now Matt had entered, "I think I need some help."

Stifler turned to Finch. "What the hell, Shit Brick? I told you to lock the door."

"You told me to shut the door," Finch corrected.

Matt pointed to Frank. "Care to share what's going on?"

"Apparently this man is having a seizure."

Matt put his hand to his chin in thought. "Yeah, okay, but that still doesn't explain why he's tied up."

"We don't want him to swallow his tongue." Jim and Stifler shot Finch an incredulous look. "It can happen, you know." This time Finch gave Jim and Stifler a suspicious look. "Yeah, why is this guy tied up?"

Jim stood up. "I can't keep this up: I have to tell someone." He pointed at Finch and Matt. "But you two have to promise to keep your mouths shut." Finch and Matt nodded. "He's not having a seizure. This guy's name is Frank and he's blackmailing me for $30,000. The reason Stifler's in here with me is because this kinda concerns his mom."

"Uh, my mom too you know," Matt pointed out. "What is he blackmailing you over?"

"If I could tell you, it wouldn't be blackmail, would it?"

"Steve, what's going on?"

"Chillax, little bro," the elder Stifler brother tried to assure the younger Stifler brother. "The dude's just got some pretty damning evidence that he'll show Mom unless Jim pays him."

"What are we going to do with him?" Finch questioned.

Jim gestured to Stifler. "Ask Steve; he's the one who jumped the guy."

"Stifler, you attacked a midget?"

"Dwarf," Stifler corrected.

Jim gave Stifler an 'are you serious' look. "Does that really matter now?" Stifler put his hands up in a sort of surrender. "Finch, how long is that Valium gonna last?"

Matt immediately looked at Finch. "Valium, what Valium?"

Finch dug though his pocket again. "I found a bottle of Valium outside. We gave him a few to calm him down."

Matt snatched the pill bottle. "How many is a few?"

"He was only supposed to get one but they fell in his mouth."

"How many?"

"At least four or five."

"Four or five?!" Finch (and even Frank) nodded at that. "You're shitting me right?"

"Why?" Even a gagged Frank repeated that question from his place on the floor.

Matt gestured for the guys to follow him into the nearby bathroom. "Since you kinda trusted me with this blackmailing secret, I need to trust you guys with my secret."

"I'm guessing what we gave him wasn't Valium?"

"Good guess."

Jim took the bottle from Matt and pointed out the obvious. "Yeah, but the bottle clearly says Valium."

Matt took the bottle back. "It's just a cover."

"So what did that guy just swallow?"

"Acid…mixed with acid."

"Acid!?"

"Basically."

"MATT!"

"But if it's any consolation, Heather's already blackmailing me."

Steve quirked a brow to his brother. "Choir chick?"

"See, Oz accidentally took one earlier and Heather agreed she'd keep her mouth shut if I helped get Oz back to normal."

"That explains what the fuck's wrong with Oz today."

"Matt!" Jim was appalled. "Why do you even have this?"

"Quick question," Finch held up his finger before continuing on, "you said Oz only had one of these, right?" Matt nodded. "And if one was enough for Oz to knock over Mr. Levenstein's coffin there's no telling what four or five of those will do to that guy."

"Yeah, especially because he's so short," Stifler pointed out.

"And calling an ambulance is a pretty moot point because we could all be arrested for involuntary giving the guy drugs."

"Not to mention possession of drugs," Matt added.

"We are up shit creek without a paddle," the older Stifler brother commented.

Jim tried to be cool. "Matt, is there a chance that Frank can die from an overdose?"

Matt tried to find a way to answer that question. "It kinda, sorta, depends."

"Is that a yes, or a no?"

"It's a maybe."'

"Seriously!?"

There was a pounding on the den door. "Whoever's in there better get their asses out here so we can get this funeral over and done with it!" Jeanine demanded from the other end of the door.

"We'll be right there, Jeanine." Jim gestured for the other three to join him in a huddle. "They'll be expecting me and one of the Stifler brothers-"

Steve pointed to himself, "Probably me."

"-out there. So while we're out there: Finch, I need you and Matt to stay in here with the door locked and keep an eye on Frank. You know, make sure he doesn't escape or anything."

"Hold up, I'm supposed to keep an eye on Oz," Matt reminded.

"Oz isn't our biggest concern right now. He locked himself in the upstairs bathroom a while ago; I'm sure he's still in there."

…

Oz was still in the bathroom. An overwrought Heather sat on the floor outside the bathroom door patiently waiting for her boyfriend. Her patience was about to be tested, however, when her ex-boyfriend came back over to her. "Why are you putting me through this Ron?"

"I actually came to tell you that everyone's gathering downstairs to resume the funeral," Ron admitted. "But now I think maybe you should hear me out."

"Ron-"

"The only reason you stopped going out with me is because your dad likes me."

"What?"

"You're going through some sort of rebellious phase with him and-"

"My father has nothing to do with this. I'm in love with Chris! I've always been in love with Chris. It broke my heart when I had to break up with him but he wasn't ready to settle down yet. But when he came back...so did all of my feelings for him. And it's like he never left."

"We dated for nearly two years."

"And I never had that spark with you. Don't get me wrong, I did love you."

"Let me guess: you just weren't _in love_ with me."

"I didn't regret our relationship until you and my father tried to control my love life. After we broke up I realized how much of a jackass you really are."

"That was a little bit harsh, there."

"No, that was honest. Honesty was never something you could handle. Now Ron, could you please leave me alone?"

"Fine," Ron turned around and headed down the stairs. When he come down the stairs, he got into the path of Uncle Mort. "Oh, hey there Mort." He noticed Mort was eating some spicy food. "Should you really be eating that?"

"Fuck off, pretty boy!" Mort spoke with a mouth full of food.

"Geez, sorry."

"Wait," Mort swallowed his food, "what side of the family are you on?"

"Neither side. I'm a friend of your doctor."

"So what the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to try and convince my girl to get back with me."

"Let me guess; the gorgeous blonde with the road rage?" Ron nodded. "I'd hit that."

"She is really attractive, isn't she?"

"As long as she's a female with a pulse, that's good enough for me."

"Here, here."

"God knows you can't have a problem unless there's a woman involved. What's wrong with this bitch?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't know anymore. I guess she just doesn't feel the way I feel about her."

"She's just playing hard to get."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"

"Work for the bitch! Just walk up to her, grab her, pull her to you, and plant a big, wet one on her."

"You think that'll work?"

"It can end one of two ways." Mort suddenly thrusted his plate at Ron. "Get that outta here; I gotta take a shit. Where the fuck is the fat boy? Never mind, I ain't got time to wait."

"Oh, well I think there's another bathroom by the de-"

"I know where the hell it is! I used to live here too asshole!" Mort quickly wheeled himself toward the den and pounded on the door with his cane. "I need the toilet, open the goddamn door!"

Inside the den, Finch got up from the floor and to the locked doors. "Find someone to take you to the upstairs bathroom."

"I'm in a wheelchair you fat bastard! I don't know how much longer I can wait before I shit myself! Open the goddamn door!" Finch nonverbally gestured for Matt to hide behind the couch with Frank (which he managed to do on his own in under ten seconds). Once they were hidden, Finch opened the door. "'Bout time."

"Excuse me for wasting what little time you have left." Mort whacked him with a cane. "I wouldn't keep being such a dick to a guy who has good reason to push you into oncoming traffic."

…

Jim and Stifler stalled for time and snuck to the garage where Jim was now in a frenzied pace. "I gotta think about what we're gonna do."

Stifler headed to the nearby fridge and grabbed himself a beer. "You know, maybe you oughta stop thinking and actually start doing."

That got Jim to stop. "Oh, like how you tied the guy up without even thinking?"

"I was thinking about my mother's well-being."

"Your mother's well-" Jim couldn't even finish that statement. "Since when do you give a shit about that? I've been the one helping to take care of your mother, not you or your brother. I've been taking care of your mother, my father, my wife, my son, my job, this house; actual adult responsibilities! You would know that if you actually grew up."

"I'm a published author."

"Oh that's just a pathetic excuse. Your books are shit Stifler and you know it." Jim shoved Stifler.

"Don't put your hand on me, asshole."

"Oh, I'll put my hand on you." Jim shoved him again. "I'll put my hand upside you."

"Don't fucking touch me. "

Jim kept touching him. "I'm a hands-on motherfucker."

"What are you gonna do, Jim? Hit me in the face?"

"Why would I do that when I can do this?" Jim pulled Stifler toward him and kneed him in the groin. In retaliation, Stifler punched Jim in the crotch. By this point, Jim and Stifler were holding onto each other and going around in a circle looking for a time to strike the other one.

So you can imagine the awkward looking position they were in when Michelle came into the garage. "Ahem," when the men noticed her, they pulled apart, "oh no, don't mind me. I was just coming to remind my husband of his father's funeral."

"Michelle," Jim started, "we've got bigger issues right now."

"Oh what, like your little guy on guy dance party?"

Stifler sighed. "You might as well tell her and get it over with."

"Tell me what?" Jim looked at the ground. Michelle closed the door and walked toward her husband. "Jim, tell me what?"

Jim looked up at her. He paused for a second before speaking. "You know that dwarf in the black leather jacket?" Michelle nodded. "Apparently he and my dad had a 'memorable'," Jim air quoted that last word, "night in Vegas."

"That means they got drunk and had sex," Stifler commented.

"Shut up Stifler." Jim continued on. "Anyway, he took some pictures and he wants to use them for blackmail unless we pay him $30,000."

Michelle looked nervous. "What kind of pictures?" Stifler, who had managed to steal the pictures back from Frank, took them out of his suit pocket and passed them to Michelle. "Oh my sweet Jesus." She viewed the pictures. "I don't know whether I should be disgusted or impressed."

"Michelle!"

"Even you can't get in these positions and you're like thirty years younger than your dad."

...

As that was going on in the garage, Finch was struggling to get Uncle Mort onto the toilet. "Cooperate with me a little you old son of a bitch!"

"You're lucky I can't hit you with my cane now." Mort responded back. "Now shut up and pull my pants down!"

"I bet you say that to all the guys!" Finch and Mort were in a shouting match at this point.

Matt had had enough. He got up from behind the couch and ran over to the opened bathroom door. "Come on guys, be quiet!"

When Finch did get Mort's pants down, Mort immediately sat on the toilet. The only problem was, Finch's hand was still under Mort. This caused a bigger screaming fiasco and added a little more noise as Finch desperately tried to get his hand out from under Mort's ass. By the time he did, however, it was too late. Finch emitted a high-pitch scream.

Matt also screamed as well. "That shit's disgusting!"

Finch instantly turned the hot water on as high as he could and stuck his hand underneath. True, some of the crap on his hands came off, but a lot of it also went flying all around the sink due to the water intensity (and the fact that Finch just shoved his hand there). "God, this better come off!"

"Dude, you're getting it on the mirror!"

"Just give me a preferably non-white towel please."

"The only towel is white."

"Screw it," Finch turned and snatched the towel from Matt. When he did, a look of disgusted terror blanched across Matt's face. "What?"

"I think you missed a spot."

Finch turned to the poop covered mirror, got a glimpse of his face, and let out another high-pitched scream. "Oh God, I think I got some of it in my mouth!"

Matt and Finch were so distracted by this that they failed to notice a couple of things. One: Uncle Mort had fallen asleep on the toilet. Two: Frank was no longer hiding behind the couch. Matt and Finch weren't able to see a dazed Frank get on top of the couch and dance. Nor did they see him fall off the couch. Their focus was on what was happening in the bathroom until they heard a loud thud in the den.

When Matt saw what happened, his eyes bugged out and his jaw nearly hit the floor. "Oh, fuck!"

Finch was also equally shocked. "I think we've got much bigger shit to worry about now."

Matt rushed over to a motionless Frank. "Check it out," he pointed to a giant crack in the coffee table, "dude must've hit his head on the table when he fell."

"Yeah, but is he okay?" Finch closed the bathroom door and made his way over to Matt. "Check on him, not the table!"

Matt knelt to the ground. "Hey, what's this guy's name again?"

"I don't remember. Try shaking him!"

Matt shook Frank. "Hey. Hey…dude. Dude, wake up."

"Check and see if he's breathing."

Matt did that. "Oh shit, he's not breathing."

"Does he have a pulse?"

Matt felt for a pulse. "No…he's dead."


	9. Setting Things Right

Michelle was processing the information that was given to her. "So what; we're just going to give this guy the majority of what's in our savings?"

"I wish it was that simple," her husband answered back.

"Why isn't it that simple?"

"Your husband don't wanna pay the dude," Stifler answered that question.

"Once you found out your mother was involved did you even offer to put up half of the extortion money?"

"Why? This isn't my problem."

"Steve Stifler, always the considerate asshole."

"And proud of it."

"Ignoring the asshole," Jim continued on (ignoring Stifler's muttering of " _considerate_ asshole"), "after the stunt Frank pulled he says he wants what _he_ deserves. So I tore up the check. I'm not giving him anything."

Michelle patted his back. "Good for you, Baby! Way to stand up to the man!"

"The little man," Stifler commented.

"Seriously Stifler, do you have to ruin every moment?" A foul stench caught Michelle's attention. "Oh God, what smells like shit?"

"Shit brick."

Stifler pointed to Finch. Finch had an obviously fake (somewhat creepy) grin plastered across his face as he fast-walked to Jim and Stifler.

"Finch," Jim pointed to his face to use as a guide, "what's with the face?"

"And why do you smell like shit?" Michelle questioned.

"Hello Michelle," Finch greeted. "If you'll pardon me; I would like James and Steven to accompany me to the den." Finch turned and headed back to the den.

"James and Steven? Guys, is there something else going on I should know about?"

"No," both James and Steven replied as they ran to the den.

Jim was the first to enter and therefore the first to notice. "Oh my God, what happened?"

"My guess is he tripped out and fell," Matt figured.

"We should call an ambulance."

"It's too late; he's dead."

"You mean like _dead_ dead?"

Finch held up his finger to accentuate a point. "I believe there's only one type of dead, Jim."

"What did you guys do to him?"

"We didn't do anything."

"Well he was alive when I left. I was expecting to find him that way when I came back."

"We can't say for sure what happened."

"Isn't it obvious what happened?" Matt pointed to the large crack in the coffee table. "He got in a fight with the table, but the table won." Matt and his brother chuckled at that. Jim and Finch, however, didn't find it all that amusing. "Too soon?"

"What are we going to do?"

"Twenty-five to life," Stifler remarked back.

"Not helpful."

"Look, I'm pretty sure no one noticed him-"

"You're sure no one noticed a four foot tall man in a leather jacket?" Jim interrupted.

"I'm sure they've noticed he hasn't been around in a while. They probably think he left. This gives us perfect opportunity to get rid of the body."

"Where? I sure as hell can't bury him in my backyard and I'm pretty sure no one on Craigslist would wanna buy a dead dwarf body."

"You'd be surprised."

"Stifler can you please be serious for one fucking minute?!"

Matt casually shrugged his shoulders. "Why don't we just bury him with your dad?

"Excuse you?"

"He'll fit. And Steve's right; it's not like anyone would notice."

Stifler nodded in agreement before adding, "Plus, being with your dad is probably what the dude wanted."

The three of them left the final decision to Finch. "Okay," Finch made up his mind, "I say we bury the fucker."

…

"Thirsty?" Heather didn't notice Ron return with a bottle of water.

Heather glared at him. "Quit trying to get on my good side Ron; I no longer have one today."

"That's a line from _Steel Magnolias_ ," he pointed out, "your favorite chick-flick."

"My favorite tear-jerker; _Steel Magnolias_ is not a chick flick."

"Fine, favorite 'woman's movie'; is that a better term?"

Heather scoffed. "I always knew you were a jackass."

"And yet you dated me for nearly two years."

"I almost didn't."

"Face it: you're in love with me."

"That is so not the reason. I was skeptical at first because I thought you got on my father's good side because of his money. That raised a red flag and I was going to dump you within the first week. The only reason I gave you a real chance is because you made him happy during that depressing period when my mom left and I guess that made me happy."

"And now I'm best friends with him."

"Yes, and the two of you are conspiring to ruin my life."

"Heather, I care about you!"

"Really? I think you care about how I make you look. A heart surgeon dating the nurse daughter of his best friend doctor."

"That does sound pretty good, actually."

"You really need to get over yourself."

"Something really baffles me: what does Ostreicher have that I don't? Obviously not a successful career."

"No, he gave that up to be with me. If I asked you to give up your career for me, you wouldn't."

"Because I'm a fucking heart surgeon, that's an important job."

"At least Chris cares!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Give me a break!"

"He does; he's a very caring person! He helps people without making a profit. Oh yeah, he's also better in the bedroom."

"I find that hard to believe," as Ron looked away, he couldn't help but notice something peculiar outside on the roof.

"He's romantic, he's thoughtful, he's-"

"He's naked on the roof."

"What?" Heather took notice of what Ron saw and gasped. Sure enough a naked Oz (don't ask) had snuck out of the bathroom window and climbed onto the roof. "Oh my God!" Heather turned to help him, but was stopped by Ron. "Ron, what are you-"

"If this doesn't convince you that you still love me then you can go play hero."

"What are you-" Ron cut her off by planting a big, wet one on her. Heather obviously didn't like this given the fact that she tried to release herself. Of course, Ron wouldn't let go and kept adjusting himself to hold onto her.

When they accidentally hit the nearby window, they got Oz's attention. "Heather?" He got another look. Yep, it was his girl Heather kissing another man (and not just any man, her ex-boyfriend). "Oh my God," a humiliated Oz stood up to leave.

"Chris!" Heather managed to shout when there was a breather. She used this pause as an opportunity to escape. Heather punched Ron and sent him to the ground. Then she tried to open the window, but it wouldn't budge. So she pounded on it. "CHRIS!" Either Oz didn't hear her or he ignored her because now he was on the move. Using as much strength as she could muster, she opened the window. "Chris, what are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" Oz questioned back. By this point, the guests outside (and a few inside) had heard a commotion near the roof and took notice of the naked man atop it fighting with a blonde girl. "I saw you kissing him!"

"No you didn't!"

"Yes, I saw you kissing him!"

"He kissed me!"

Ron had risen to his feet. He had one hand over his bloody nose. With the other hand, he tapped on Heather's shoulder. "Heather-"

"Go away, Ron!"

"You're a cheater!" Oz yelled. He noticed the people on the ground. "Cheater! She cheated!"

"I did not cheat!" Heather tried to assure the people on the ground.

"I'm gonna jump."

"No!"

"I'm gonna jump!" He headed for a higher space on the roof.

"No, you're not thinking clearly!" Heather tried to stop him to no avail. "CHRIS!"

An ignored (and bloody-nosed) Ron started to leave the scene. "I think Paul's got my camera."

…

"So we have a plan," Jim stated to his mini-group, "we bury him with my dad. Now our only concern is how to get the body into the coffin without being seen."

"It's gotta take at least two people to put him in there," Finch deduced.

"That still doesn't explain how we're going to get out of here carrying a dead body."

There was knock on the door. "Hey Paul, you in there, it's Ron."

"Just a second," Finch called to him. "What do we do?"

"Hide the body in the bathroom," Jim suggested. "Come on," he and the others lifted the body and carried it to the bathroom.

Opening the door, Jim wasn't expecting to see his half-sleeping uncle on the toilet. Mort wasn't expecting to see Jim either. "Jim? What the fuck?"

Jim quickly shut the door. "What's Uncle Mort doing in the bathroom?"

Finch tsked. "Jim, if you don't know the bathroom basics at the stage in your life-"

"Don't make jokes, Finch!"

Ron knocked again. "Paul, come on this is huge!"

"Sit Frank up on the couch!" Finch and the Stifler brothers gave Jim a weird look. "Now!" As they did that, Jim unlocked the door and opened it slightly. "Hey Dron."

"Jason."

"Still not my name." Jim noticed the blood around Ron's nose. "Hey are you okay? What happened to your nose?"

"Never mind that; I gotta talk to Paul!"

"What's going on?" Finch inquired.

Ron pushed the door opened. The first thing he noticed was a sleeping dwarf sandwiched between the Stifler brothers and Finch sitting on the arm of the couch. "Oh-kay," he brushed that off. "Paul, did you bring my camera?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

"It's Oz, he's gone crazy! He's naked on the roof and he says he's gonna jump. I gotta get this on video." He pulled out his phone and ran back outside.

Matt quickly stood up and ran to the door. "If he jumps, I'm fucked!" He hurried out of the den.

"Wait here," Jim ordered Finch and Stifler. Jim too ran out of the den and into the backyard where practically all of the guests were watching. "Holy shit."

"Oz! What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna jump!" Oz proclaimed. He pointed at Heather. "She cheated!"

Heather let out an aggravated groan from her place at the window. "I did not cheat!"

"You were kissing him!"

"He kissed me!"

"Cheater, cheater, something eater," he stuck his tongue out and spat at her.

"Chris, please, can we talk about this inside?"

"You be quiet, Jezebel!"

"Fine! If you won't come down here, I'll go up there."

"No, ma'am!" Too late, Heather had taken off her heels and slowly began climbing the roof.

"HEATHER!" Heather's father was now amongst the witnesses. "Heather what the hell are you doing?"

As this was going on, Jim ran to find Michelle. When he found her, he pulled her aside. "Michelle, I think I can get rid of this Frank guy."

Michelle tried not to get too excited. "Really?"

"Yes, but you have to keep everybody out here until I give the okay."

"Okay, I can do that. But you owe me big time, for this."

"Fine, yes, we'll have sex later, I promise," Jim ran back inside and entered the den without knocking (startling Finch and Stifler a little). "Everybody's outside! If we're gonna do this, we have to do it now! Finch, since you're a weakling, I need you to be the lookout and keep other people from coming in."

Finch gave him two thumbs up. "Can do!" He helped guide Jim and Stifler to the living room all the while keeping a lookout for other people. They had barely made it into the living room when Finch heard someone hurrying inside. "Someone's coming!"

"Stall them!"

Finch headed toward the footsteps. Soon he was face to face with the reverend. "Oh, hello, Reverend. How is God today?"

"I have no time for chit chat," the reverend tried to walk away.

"I just have a couple of questions; it won't take too long."

"I need to contact an ambulance. There is a naked man on the roof threating to jump."

"You don't have a cell phone?"

"No, I do not. Now if you'll excuse me."

"But I really need to ask you these questions."

The reverend sighted. "Alright."

"Okay; and answer them in as much detail as possible. So at what age did you get your calling? When exactly was it? Where were you when it happened? Did anyone else influence your decision? Were you-"

"I'm sorry, but I need to use the phone."

"I have a confession!"

"I'm a reverend, not a priest!"

"That's okay, I'm not Catholic. Oh, and does this look like a pigment mutation to you?" Finch thrusted his wrist in the reverend's face.

"I really ought to-"

Finch wrapped his arm around the reverend's shoulder. "Come on Reverend; walk with me, talk with me, pray with me."

…

Meanwhile, it took both Jim and Stifler to open the coffin (dropping Frank to the ground for a moment) and put Frank's body inside. Once they did, Jim had second thoughts. "We can't put him in there like that."

Stifler took a quick glance. "I think it's fine the way it is."

In the casket, Noah's head rested in between Frank's legs while Frank's face was buried in Noah's crotch. "Stifler, that is so wrong!"

"But it's what the little dude would have wanted."

"Just help me fix the body!"

"Wait a minute," Stifler took the incriminating photos from his suit pocket, "I think we should put these pics in there so they'll never see the light of day."

'Yeah, that's actually a good idea." Jim and Stifler readjusted the body, placed the pictures in the casket, and closed the lids.

When it was all over, Jim sighed. "You okay there, Jim?"

"I just realized that was the last time I'm gonna see my father."

Stifler patted Jim's shoulder. "Your dad was a pretty cool guy."

"Yeah, he was." Jim placed his hands atop the casket. "Goodbye, Dad. I love you."

"That was so beautifully gay."

"And you killed the moment."

…

While all this was going on, Heather had made it to the top of the roof. "Chris, please-"

"Don't come any closer," Oz warned her. "I'm going to jump."

"And I'm going to stop you."

"Why?"

"Because I love you!"

"Then what were you doing with Dron?"

"I wasn't with him!"

"I saw you kissing him!"

"He kissed me!"

"Does it really matter?"

"Chris-"

"I'll never be good enough."

"That's not true."

"I'll never be good enough for your father."

"That's his problem, not yours."

"I'll never be good enough for you."

"You are too good for me."

"Forget about me; you're better off with Ron."

"Please come back inside."

He looked away. "Go back without me."

"I won't go unless you go with me."

"Why should I?"

Heather paused. There was something else she was hiding and now it seemed like this was the time to tell him. "Oz," she rarely used his nickname. However, this maneuver made him turn and face her. "Oz, you're going to be a father."

"I'm pregnant?"

Heather couldn't help but laugh. "No, I am."

"You're pregnant too?"

Heather sighed. "Yeah." The small smile on Heather's face countered Oz's wide grin. "We're gonna have a baby."

After he and Heather embraced, a triumphant Oz stood up. "WE'RE HAVING A BABY!"

Most of the audience applauded. Doctors Roger and Ron weren't exactly pleased with this. Michelle on the other hand, was happy for them, but jealous at the same time. "Great, everyone's havin' a baby, but me." Michelle noticed Roger storming off. "Jim!" she called to her husband before rushing inside. "Jim!" She found Jim and Stifler in the living room standing in front of the casket "Is the dwarf gone?"

Jim looked around the room. "It looks that way."

"So everything's cool?"

"Yeah," Stifler answered, "everything's cool."

The peace of the moment was interrupted by gasps and screaming. Running outside, Jim, Stifler, and Michelle saw (a still naked) Oz dangling from the roof near the bathroom window.

"Shit," Matt was the only one who raced back inside.

As Matt rushed inside, Heather was trying to hold onto Oz. "Somebody help me, please!"

"Help you?" Oz tried not to look down. "Somebody help _me_!" Oz gasped. "Something's grabbed me!"

"I got you, Oz!" Matt had busted down the bathroom door and went to the window to save Oz. Despite the full frontal view, Matt knew it was the right thing that he had to do. "My manhood is being seriously questioned right now."

"Do you have him?" Heather called to Matt.

"It's on my cheek," Matt answered back.

"Matt?"

"Yeah, I got him; I'll pull him back in." Heather let go and Matt did just that. After breathing a sigh of relief, Heather carefully made her way back into the house. "Oz," she went into the bathroom and pulled him close to her, "don't ever scare me like that again." She let him go. "Are you okay, now?"

Oz took a deep breath. "I feel a little better thanks to you," Oz poked her stomach, "and you," this made Heather laugh. "Oh, and thanks to Matt." Oz gestured to the sink where Matt was gargling mouthwash.

"Thank you, Matt."

"Thanks, Matt."

Oz went to give Matt a hug, but Matt backed away. "Yeah, Oz: me and you; we can never touch again." Matt shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't accidentally touch Oz. "I'm gonna go find me a big ass Tic Tac or something."

As Matt left, Roger entered. "Heather!" He approached his daughter. "Heather, thank God you're safe." He gave Oz a death glare. "And you: you stay away from my daughter."

"Dad-"

"Stay out of this, Heather."

Heather made a noise of disbelief. "Oh, you did not just say that to me! Dad, get this through your head: this is _my_ life and if you want me and your grandchild to remain a part of yours then you better change your attitude and accept the fact that I'm going to marry Chris."

"Marry?"

"Dad, I love you; but you have to agree to my terms or you're going to lose me like you did Mom." Heather walked away.

Oz put his hand on Roger's shoulder. "Welcome to the family, Dad."

…

"I think we've had enough excitement for one day," Jeanine remarked as she assembled in the living room with her oldest son and stepson. "We really need to get this funeral started so we can get it over with."

"You're right," Jim agreed. "I'll go find the reverend."

"I'll go with you step-bro," Stifler stood by Jim's side as they went to find the reverend.

"While you're at it," Jeanine began, "go and find your pervy uncle too."

Jim and Stifler exchanged nervous glances before hurrying back to the den.


	10. That's Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter!

Uncle Mort wasn't all that thrilled to see Jim and Stifler return (surprise, surprise). "Where the fuck have you been?"

"Sorry Uncle Mort," Jim apologized. "One of the guests climbed on the roof and threatened to jump. Come on; I'll help you get your pants on."

"Was that the dead body you tried stashing in here?"

Jim nervously looked at Stifler to avoid eye contact with Mort. "Uh, what are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me; I know a dead body when I see one—I live in a goddamn retirement home."

"Maybe you dreamt it," Stifler lied.

"Uh, yeah," Jim tried to follow Stifler's lead, "yeah, I mean you did fall asleep on the toilet."

Mort grabbed his cane before sitting in his wheelchair. "If you want me to keep quiet, it's gonna cost you."

"Seriously Uncle Mort, we have no idea what you're talking about. Come on; let's go back to the funeral."

"Why does it smell like shit in here?"

"Because you're in a bathroom."

…

Matt felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see an attractive young brunette behind him. "I just wanted to say what you did today with that Oz guy was really brave."

"Cool, thank you," Matt thanked.

"I was also wondering if maybe you'd like to go out sometime. I'd really like to get to know you better."

"I am a pretty cool person to know," Matt's reply made the girl giggle. "I'm Matt by the way."

She shook his hand, "I'm Kara."

…

Ron went over to Finch. "Hey man; I'm gonna need my keys."

"Oh, right," Finch reached into his pockets for Ron's keys. "You leaving?"

"I see no reason to stay. Oh, hey, how's the splotch on your wrist?"

"At this point I'm more concerned with the shit smell."

"That's coming from you?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Fair enough; just stay out of my car."

"I figured."

"Oh and just pour a little vinegar on the rash it should clear right up." Finch gave Ron a surprised look. "An old family secret. As for the shit smell; I can't really help you with that. Maybe take a shower or two." The guests in the living room started applauding when Heather and a fully clothed Oz came downstairs hand in hand.

"I guess I should feel sorry about the thing with you and Heather but even I knew it was a lost cause. They really love each other, they always have."

"No, I know; she told me up front she'd only ever had one love. The fact that she used the word 'love' should've scared me off but God I really wanted her. You hear she's having a kid now?"

"No, actually I was too busy distracting the reverend to take notice of what was going on in other people's affairs. Good for them though." Finch tilted his head to Ron. "I guess this means you'll back off now?"

"Yeah, I mean could you ever picture me with kids? It's a disaster waiting to happen." Finch nodded in agreement. "So I guess I'll see you later?"

"Sure."

"I'd seriously consider the shower thing like right away," Ron suggested before leaving.

"I saw him!" Finch heard Mort yell. He noticed Jim and Stifler bringing Mort into the living room. "I saw the dead body!"

Stifler pointed to the casket. "Yeah, remember we all saw Mr. Levenstein's dead body when it got knocked over."

"Not that body you dumb shit!"

An exasperated Jim took a seat beside his wife. "I can not believe what a nightmare today has been."

With a smile, Michelle shrugged. "I think it's been pretty exciting." Jim gave her an 'are you serious' look. "For a funeral."

"And after everything that's happened today I still have to give the eulogy."

"Babe, you'll do great."

The reverend made his way over to Jim. "Son, we really need to get this over with. If you don't mind I'm going to keep everything short, and I hope you do the same with the eulogy." Jim nodded. "Oh, would you like the casket open?"

"NO!" Jim, Stifler, and Finch shouted at once.

"Alright," the reverend stood center. "If everyone would be seated. I would like to apologize on behalf of the family for all of the distractions. Jim, would you please deliver your eulogy?"

Jim swallowed the lump in his throat and took his place in front of the casket. He pulled out the notecards and leaned against the coffin. "My father was an exceptional man." Suddenly, the coffin began to shake. Jim pretended to ignore that and carried on with his eulogy. "My father came into this world-"

This time the pounding from the inside of the coffin (in addition to the shaking) could not be mistaking. "I think there's someone in there!" a guest noted.

"I knew it!" Oz proclaimed.

"Uh..." Jim tried to continue with the speech. "My father was-"

He was once again cut off by the coffin lid flying open and Frank emerged alive and screaming. This caused other people (Jim included) to scream. "WHAT THE FUCK!?" A disoriented Frank shouted.

"Hey you," Stifler tried to play the fool, "get out of my stepfather's coffin!"

Frank looked down in the coffin. "Oh my God a dead guy!" Jim gestured for Finch and the Stifler brothers to help get Frank out of the coffin. Again, Frank put up a struggle. And in the ensuing struggle, no one seemed to notice a series of pictures fall to the floor…

…right beside Jeanine's foot. When Jeanine noticed her late husband's face in one of the pictures, curiosity got the best of her and she naturally looked. Her screaming could be heard over the chaos. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" She lunged for Frank. Another physical altercation occurred amidst the audience trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Mort wheeled over to where the pictures were scattered. "Heh," he showed no expression, "this doesn't surprise me."

Something inside Jim suddenly snapped. "MY FATHER!" He screamed loud enough to get everyone's attention. "My father was…my father was human. Did he have his faults? Sure, who doesn't? But he still was a loving family man. All I wanted to do today was to say how much we all loved, cherished, and respected him. But I guess that was too much to ask for." Jim paused. "That's life. Life is complicated and we do our best. My dad…" Jim tried not to choke up, "…my dad did his best. When you all leave today: I want you to remember my father for he who truly was; the way you remember him best. Remember him as a caring, generous, and honest guy who only saw the good in every person and situation no matter how bleak everything looked." Jim bent down to his son's level and gestured for Evan to come over to him. Evan got up and ran into his father's arms. "And if I can be even half the man he was to my son, and any of my future kids I have with my smoking hot wife," a teary-eyed Michelle smiled at that, "then I know I'm doing something right." Evan rested his head in the crook of his father's neck. "And I'll be truly grateful for that." Jim lowered Evan down and gestured for him to go sit with his mother. Once again, Jim looked out in the crowd. "So uh, thanks for listening."

And with that, Jim walked away.

…

When everything had settled and the guests were gone, Jim sat in his father's favorite chair glad that everything was finally over.

"That was a really cool speech, Jim," leave it to Steve Stifler to interrupt the quiet moments.

Jim acknowledged Stifler with a nod. "How's your mom? I mean she didn't seem to happy with the whole gay dwarf sex thing."

"She seems cool with it now. I mean you have to ask her when she gets back from her date."

"Date?"

"With some Roger guy." Jim smirked. "What?"

"Let's just say I wouldn't be surprised if you and Matt end up with Heather as your stepsister in the near future."

"That's choir chick's dad?"

"Ye-ep."

"Isn't the dude going to be a grandfather?"

"My dad was a grandfather when your mom married him." Stifler made some sort of face. "I guess your mom likes older father figures."

Stifler sighed. "Oh well. I guess it's better she bangs choir chick's dad instead of Shit Brick."

"Hey where is Matt by the way?"

"He's freshin' up in the upstairs bathroom. Lying bastard says he's got a hot date." A car horn honked outside.

Suddenly Matt was running down the stairs. "Bye Jim! Bye Steve!" He hurried out the door.

"I don't think he was kidding," Jim observed. He and Stifler went to the door to find Matt getting into the passenger side of a Corvette. The driver was none other than Jim's next door neighbor Kara.

"That little fucker," Stifler muttered as his brother drove off with the girl he had been trying to hit on. "Am I the only one from the funeral who isn't gonna get laid tonight?"

Jim noticed his wife make her way to the living room. "Probably."

"Well fuck."

With a laugh, Jim left Stifler alone and headed into the living room to join his wife. "Hey."

"Hi," she greeted back. "I just put Evan down for a nap."

"Looks like you're the one who needs the nap."

"It's been a long day, Jim."

"Maybe getting into bed would do some good for both of us." Jim gave her a flirty wink.

"My, my, Mr. Levenstein, I like the way you think." She noticed Jim's face fall. "What?"

"Everyone called my dad Mr. Levenstein." Michelle's mouth formed an 'O'. "I'm going to have to get used to me being the new Mr. Levenstein. It's not gonna be the same without him."

"Babe, I'll miss him too."

"Hey, if our next kid is another boy; can we name him after my dad? That would really mean a lot to me."

"Sure, Jim."

"Thanks." He stood up and extended his hand. "Let's get started on that baby, shall we?"

"I dunno, that nap is sounding pretty good."

"Oh, now you're not in the mood?"

"I know I should be. I mean we're pretty much alone; Evan's asleep, Jeanine's out, your Uncle Mort's...well I'm never sure what's up with that pervy old bastard."

"Where is Uncle Mort anyway?"

"Upstairs. I gave him a couple of Valiums and put him to bed."

"Did you say Valium?" Michelle nodded. "Where did you find it?"

"I found the bottle on the floor when I was cleaning the downstairs bathroom. I think you guys knocked it over and forgot to pick it up."

"Oh shit." Jim bolted from his spot leaving a confused Michelle behind.

…

Meanwhile, a naked Mort sat on the roof clutching his cane and looking around in a daze. "Why is everything so fucking green?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me and this fic. Peace out!


End file.
